


Tales Not Told

by DustToDust



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-14
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-26 12:25:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 65
Words: 33,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/965897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustToDust/pseuds/DustToDust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of unconnected JayTim drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lunch Break

**Author's Note:**

> The-Batcow asked for Jason slipping naughty things into Tim’s lunch and asked for a reaction from Tim.

Jason was a dead man walking and Tim didn’t even feel the slightest bit guilty for that thought. Not when he had to oh so casually peel a picture of a naked man —dear lord was that Dick!?— off of his turkey sandwich. While in a room with far too many sharp-eyed corporate brown nosers who would really benefit the world by disappearing off the Wayne payroll. They were sharks who knew how precarious their positions were and this whole meeting was essentially one drop of blood from becoming a feeding frenzy to cull the herd.

Tim smiled blandly at Jackie who eyed the picture he was folding up —yes, that grin was all Dick and maybe Tim would kill him a little too— with the keen interest of self-preservation. Her voice was saccharin sweet as she chirped just loud enough to draw attention, “Does your girlfriend pack you love notes with lunch?”

God dammit, Jason. Tim smiled and let himself flush a little as he bit back rage. “Sometimes he does, yes. Usually I pack my own lunch though.”

Like he had that morning while Jason had done an incredible impression of a log in their bed. When he’d gone in and sabotaged Tim’s lunch was beyond him at the moment.

Yolanda, across the table from him, sneered but said nothing. There were very firm policies in place to keep employees from being harassed for their sexuality, and whatever hang ups the woman had weren’t welcome under Tim's watch. Tim made a mental note to look closer at the woman, make sure she was actually keeping her opinions to herself when he wasn't looking right at her.

"That’s sweet," Jim said with an empty smile that was probably meant to be encouraging. His tone just bland enough to shout, 'Look how many fucks I give about the gay guy.'

"Yes," Tim agreed. Actively trying to channel some of the famous Wayne vapidness. Jackie tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. Tim looked down at the safety folded picture and immediately saw the word cock printed in Jason’s neat block letters. He quickly slid the thing into a folder he’d brought with him. Eyes catching a few more choice phrases Jason had written on the back of the photo. In, Tim rubbed the residue between his fingers, sparkly purple marker.

"He’s a real sweetheart," Tim deliberately bit into the sandwich. Eying the bag it came in warily. There were fruit and granola bars in there too but Tim didn’t trust Jason. The older man wouldn’t have stopped at just one. "So," Tim smiled brightly at Yolanda, "HR tells me there was a problem in your office?"

Jason was a dead man. Soon as Tim got off work for the day. Yolanda smirked at Tim and started talking around the problem that he knew all too well was _still_ there. He let her have her way for the moment as he tried to pull out a bottle of water. Abandoning it for a lost cause the second he saw the taped edge of another photo and the hint of red hair. Jason was so dead. Possibly as soon as this meeting was finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Jason did have a naked selfie of himself in the bag. Around the banana he'd put in there in place of an apple. The other photos were just interesting blackmail material he scored from Babs and has been hoarding for a rainy day. Or, you know, the day before he knows Tim'll be meeting with the subjects of said photos for a tactics brainstorming session. One that he's now fully ensured will be spent with Tim firmly avoiding all eye contact.


	2. Dinner Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Story idea [here](http://kaitouhime1412.tumblr.com/post/61806283666/a-story-with-dickbabs-royjade-and-jaytim). I just wrote a small bit of the drama that would have gone on in the JayTim and Damian household.

"For the sake of my sanity, I need you to tell me neither of you will ever adopt children," Damian scowled up at Jason. The dark look and sneer of contempt no more or less irritating in the body of a six-year-old than it had been in a sixteen-year-old. "Or attempt to spawn your own in some way. I need your word on this matter immediately."

"Shut up, brat," Jason snaps, checking the urge to throw a punch because it's harder to explain bruises the smaller the kid is. "How the hell was I supposed to know it'd catch fire?"

Damian's unimpressed look doesn't loose any of it's scorn on his much smaller face. "You are an idiot. Of course plastic is going to catch fire in an oven. Why wouldn't it?"

"I thought it was the kind of plastic that you could cook!" Jason ignores the looks he's getting from Damian and Tim --now that he's no longer holding a smoking pile of what used to be frozen garlic bread-- to throw his hands up. "What? Don't look at me like that, I've always left the stuff I get in the packaging. The directions didn't say to remove the plastic! If it couldn't take the heat why didn't they say to remove it!?"


	3. Duress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The opposite of Vegas Baby! Where they're not in love yet, but the attraction is still there.

"What are my chances of getting you to say yes to marrying me in the next hour?"

Jason laughs and hangs up. He considers the totally out of the blue words and calls back. He laughs some more when Tim picks up.

"Trust me," Tim says and his voice is the level of pleasantness that he only uses when in the public eye. "You're not my first choice but so far no one else has agreed, and I am getting desperate."

"Aw, now my feelings are hurt, Replacement," Jason rolls onto his back and checks the time on one of the hundred or so clocks Tim keeps in his place. "I thought we had something special going."

"We beat criminals at night dressed in tights and masks. We regularly beat each other in our down hours, when the nights are slow, or when we just plain feel like it," there is a soft murmur of voices in the background. Getting fainter as Tim moves away. "We only fuck as a substitution for killing each other. Yes, Jason, we do have something special. Special and psychotic."

Jason snorts at the pissy tones in Tim's voice, "Hate to break it to you, but sex doesn't make me not want to end you. Your rabbit ass just won't stay in bed long enough for me to smother you."

"I love it when you make my point for me, Jason," there's a faint click and Tim's voice grows hard. His public persona dropping and his real voice coming out to play. "If I'm not married by the time my lunch break is over, I'll end up engaged to Ra's, because the board is stuck a couple hundred years in the past."

"I thought the big guy has a policy of not making business deals with any al Ghul," Jason frowns as he sits up. Sure, Tim was a bitch and he'd just as easily hit him as fuck him, but, well, _Ra's_. His interest in Tim was all kinds of different levels of creep and bad touch wrong.

"Human error," and Tim spits the words in a way that speaks loudly about how that mistake will be fixed. There's demons in Hell that shudder at that tone of voice, and Jason only wishes he were joking about that. "We can't back down now without significant loss. Lucius and I have just been dealing with it the best we could until today. The board seems very willing to meet Ra's demands."

"They're sharks. They'd sell their own skin for profit," the hum he's been hearing has to be a car. Not the elevator like he'd first thought. "You're serious about this?"

"What part of engaged to Ra's did you not understand?" Tim asks evenly. "I'd rather be- why are you at my apartment?"

Because his latest safe house has a serious case of the rats. Which Jason won't admit to, ever, because Tim had warned him about it being inevitable and Jason doesn't want to deal with the "Told you so" bullshit.

"You're not using it right now. What's it going to matter anyway? Soon as we're married what's your will be mine, right?" Jason frowns suspiciously. "And how the fuck do you know where I am? You slip a tracker on me you little shit!?"

"The only property you're bringing into this marriage is yourself," Tim says in an airy tone Jason really wants to punch. "You know how I like keeping track of my stuff, _honey boo_."

"I haven't signed your paper yet, _sweetie_ ," Jason growls into the phone as everything goes red for a few seconds. "You might want to lay off the insults until the ink dries."

"Hm," Tim hums thoughtfully. "I suppose it wouldn't be good to file the paperwork with a black eye, and you do need your fingers to sign."

"I only need three and you've got theater quality makeup for a reason," Jason says before hanging up again. Anger still boils under his skin but he's got maybe ten minutes to cool it enough not to throw punches or fuck Tim against the door.

He also has ten minutes to get used to the fact that he's agreed to Marry Tim Drake. "The fuck do I do this shit?"

Maybe the Replacement had something with the whole killing substitution thing. It was either that or Jason's finally taken one too many hits to the head and is loosing his damn mind. Jason growls as he gets up and goes looking for pen and paper. Like hell was he getting married without some form of pre-nup.


	4. Betting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Request](http://kaitouhime1412.tumblr.com/) for losing a bet and embarrassment with some Halloween and Silent Hill flares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, I take requests on Thurdays via tumblr.

Tim let himself blush all he wanted in the privacy of his bathroom. Staring at the mirror and forcing himself to acknowledge that, yes, that was him standing there in a ridiculous nurse uniform. The v-necked one piece was tight even without the needed boobs to push out the top. The grungy and bloody material didn’t help make him look any less ridiculous in Tim’s opinion.

"Tim!" Dick sang through the door and Steph’s giggles. "You can’t hide in there all night. The deal calls for a certain amount of time to be spent in our company."

And a certain amount of pictures too. Tim grimaced and wondered what the hell had possessed him to bet against Dick. The bastard was a cheater. Giving up his treasured privacy he knelt down to strap the torture devices Steph called shoes on over the bloody tights.

"Drake," Damian’s voice carried through and Tim froze, "Stop putting off your humiliation. I have better things to do with my time but Grayson refuses to let me leave until you come out."

"Dammit, Dick," Tim muttered as he stood up. Of course he’d make sure as many people saw Tim as possible. Testing his balance with a few circles he raised his voice so the executioners outside could hear him. "None of this was easy to put on, it’s not meant for men to wear. It’s taking a bit to adjust, alright?"

Steph cackled. Drowning out Damian’s grumbling and Dick’s response. Tim rotated his right ankle and looked in the mirror one last time. The blush was gone and Tim fixed his mind on keeping it that way as he turned to unlock the door.

He was immediately assaulted by several blinding flashes of light and an unholy sounding squeal he really hoped was coming from Steph and not Dick.

"You look ridiculous, Drake," Damian said from somewhere to his right. Disgust and amusement clear in his voice. "You almost look entirely female."

All lies but Tim smiled viciously in the brat’s direction. Catching the kid’s blur through the still flashing lights as Dick and Steph worked at getting him from all angles. “Don’t worry, B will teach you the secrets of cross dressing soon enough.”

Next week in fact but Tim would rather see the brat’s surprised face than deal with his dread.

"It’s a solemn Robin tradition," Dick intoned as Tim stepped further into the room and rubbed his eyes. "We’ve all got the wear the dress sometime."

"Yeah," Tim jerked to a stop when Jason’s —entirely too amused voice— came from somewhere in the vicinity of the door to the hallway. "But I don’t think any of us did that dress nearly as well as the baby bird here."

_Do not blush._ Tim held firm to the thought and turned to glare. Jason grinned back as he leaned against the wall. Arms crossed over his chest as he appreciatively eyed Tim from behind. Eyes lingering at butt level with a heat that really couldn’t be faked. “How about a spin, hot stuff.”

"Woo!" Steph cackled from the bed. Her phone up and obviously recording. "Look at that blush go!"

Dick whistled as he turned Tim around, pulling the flap of the top open enough to look at his chest. “I didn’t know you were a full body blusher, Tim.”

Damian stalked past them both and out the open door. Throwing one last you-all-disgust-me glare over his shoulder. Tim glared right back and vowed bloody revenge on the brat. On _everyone._

Jason sidled into view and met his glare with a calculating look. “What kind of nurse you supposed to be anyway?”

"The deadly kind," Tim replied with a snarl. And that was a thought. To be authentic he really should have a weapon of some sort after Steph did her make up magic. "Do I get knives?" He asked her hopefully.

Steph and Dick gave him twin looks of, “Hell no, not with that manic gleam in your eyes.” Jason-

Jason took a step forward and made an _interesting_ sound. The appreciative look from earlier back and multiplied as he said, “Oh, fuck yes, please.”

Distantly Tim heard Dick comment to Steph, “I don’t think that dark shade of red is healthy for humans to have.”


	5. In the Stacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Request](http://akar3n.tumblr.com/) for teen!JayTim in the library.

Tim bit his lip to stop the startled yelp that wanted to come out when another body draped itself over him from behind. A large, leather coated body that smelled strongly of cigarettes and husked —right in his ear— a shiver inducing hello, “Hey, baby bird. Miss me?”

Tim passed the shiver off as the reek of Jason Todd’s cigarettes. The ones that had gotten him suspended from school for a week. The best week of Tim’s high school years to date. The bright red flush was harder to explain away though so Tim focused on keeping his face toward the stack of books he was shelving as he squirmed out of Jason’s hold. “No, I’ve been dreading your return.”

Jason laughed. A little too loud and Tim winced at the annoyed look he could almost see on Ms. Gordon’s face. “Aw, don’t be like that, baby,” Jason spun around the book cart to give Tim his very best grin. All charm and dripping with promise. The one that had gotten far too many other students to fall for him. “You know you’re all I could think about this last week.”

"Right," Tim shoved a few Poe books back into place and focused on blanking his face out. Trying to reach for that bored and disinterested facade that would put Jason off. Eventually. It would work no matter how much Steph and Cas laughed at him about it. Jason would eventually get bored of trying to tease a reaction out of him. "Because that’s what they wanted you to think about when they threw you out for breaking the rules."

Tim shelves four more books and Jason doesn’t say anything in response. Nothing flip or lewd. Not even a mocking quip about his feelings. Curious, Tim holds tight to his mask and turns to look at him.

Jason’s looking at him. Bent over and braced on the cart like he doesn’t have a care in the world but the look on his face calls that a lie. There’s an edge of seriousness in his eyes that Tim’s only seen come out when the other boy gets into arguments. Right between the initial outrage of seeing something he thinks is wrong happen. Those few minutes he spends trying to fix the problem with words before he loses patience and starts using his fists.

"I’m gonna be honest for a minute here, Tim," Jason says and Tim nearly gaped at the use if his name. He hadn’t thought Jason knew it. He’s always called him by a slew of diminutives and nicknames before, but never his name. "I like you. More than is probably healthy for me. I’ve tried- well, hell, you know everything I’ve tried."

An increasingly bizarre set of actions that have served no purpose than to humiliate Tim from the first day he came in as a freshman. Yes, Tim knows what Jason’s tried. The words stay on the tip of his tongue though because Jason’s still giving him that serious look, and there’s more than a bit of pleading in there as well.

"My dick headed older brother pointed out there was one thing I haven’t done yet though. So," Jason took a breath and looked nervous, "would you, Timothy Drake, go out with me? On a date. One of a series of dates I plan to take you on to convince you that you like me enough to be my boyfriend."

Tim stared and thought, distantly, that Jamie was going to owe Bart and Kon so much money for siding with Tim over Jason’s motives.

"Or, not I guess," Jason laughed harshly. His shoulders dropping in something that Tim’s never seen from the boy before. Defeat. "Look, forget it. I’ll just," Jason looked down at the cart. Hurt poorly hidden before disappearing under his usual grin so quickly Tim had to wonder how much he’d missed seeing by trying to avoid his eyes. "See ya around."

Tim stared at the book in his hand. Listening to Jason walk away. Loud thumps of his boots that usually told everyone how angry he was and to stay away. “Jason.”

The sounds stopped and Tim carefully pried two books apart to make room for one more. He was insane. Absolutely insane and he wasn’t entirely convinced this wouldn’t come back to bite him on the ass later. “Despite the rumors going around, I’m not vegetarian or vegan. So your plans better involve someplace that serves meat.”

Tim picks up the last book and eyes the crowded shelf. The silence behind him has a weight to it and Tim almost wants to see the gobsmacked look on Jason’s face. He flips the book on its side and slots the thing on top of the books on the shelf. It’s not the right thing to do but short of rearranging the whole shelf he isn’t getting that book anywhere else.

He doesn’t hear Jason move to physically pick Tim up and spin him around. Jason’s grin is blinding and fierce as he cups Tim’s burning cheeks, “God, you-“

Tim hopes Ms. Gordon doesn’t come back to the stacks to see why Tim’s yelp was smothered so quickly as Jason pulls him into a rather minty tasting kiss that leaves him breathless.


	6. Costume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked for JayTim costume shopping with Jay enjoying it way too much.

The best thing about waiting until the day before Halloween was watching the looks on people’s faces as they picked through what was left in the costume section. Or what wasn’t left, Jason grinned at the shocked look on Tim’s face as he looked at the nearly empty men’s section. A feeling of smugness rolling through him as he thought of the costume he’d snagged at the beginning of the month, “I told you, you can’t put stuff like this off.”

Tim threw a glare at him and stepped back to avoid a shrieking child and his harried mother. He eyed the thick packages of stupid couples costumes as Jason leaned against another empty section of the store. Patiently waiting for Tim to come to the same conclusion Jason had reached a week ago when Tim still didn’t have a costume. Normally not something any Wayne had to worry about. Not unless they were trying to infiltrate a party where custom made costumes would stand out in a bad way.

Jason watched a fight break out between two mothers over a costume way too short for the crying ten-year-olds at their feet and smirked.

"I could just-"

"Finish that thought and I’m taking you to Walmart," Jason cut in as Tim turned away from a salt and pepper costume. "You know we have to blend in and the only thing that won’t stand out is generic, mass produced costumes."

Tim let out an aggrieved noise and turned to the only spot that had costumes left. Two teenage girls dressed in slinky Thing 1 and 2 costumes stepped aside automatically as Tim glared at the women’s costumes. “I wouldn’t even fit these things!”

"Sure you will, just look for the plus sizes," Jason gave the girls a sly grin. "He put off buying something and doesn’t want to be an egg."

"Who even wears that anyway?" Tim scowls as he pushes aside a slew of slutty this and that. All extra small and looking like they’re missing pieces.

"Idiots who wait to the day of to buy costumes," Jason reached past Thing 1 to grab a bag marked plus sized and tossed it to Tim. "Try that on."

"This," Tim looked at the vampire dress with a horror that made the girls giggle. Jason didn’t get why he was so upset about it. It was probably the most decent thing left in the store at this point. Slit skirt and plunging neckline aside. "No, Jason. No way."

"This is plus sized," Thing 2 danced up to Tim with a sexy French maid outfit and a devilish grin that did her costume inspiration proud.

"And this!" Thing 1 chimed in with something that looked reminiscent of Ivy. Except more indecent which shouldn’t be possible with Ivy.

"No," Tim looked like he’d swallowed something nasty as he took a step back. Hands coming up to ward off the costumes. "Hell no."

Jason spied another costume and grabbed it with a grin that matched the girls’ and he’d need a striped hat if this kept up. “How about this?” He asked as he held up a Miley Cyrus VMA costume kit.

"Put that back or you’re wearing it and I’m taking your costume," Tim snapped. His glare turning dangerous. "No, we’re going to look somewhere else. I refuse to believe every shop is sold out."

Tim stalked out through the chaos in a snit fit so epic even the arguing mothers got out of his way. Jason laughed and dropped the kit about to follow him out when Thing 1 pranced up again. A wicked smile on her face as she held out the best fucking thing Jason had ever seen.

"No fucking way!" Jason crowed with laughter. Wondering who’d had the balls to try and market a sexy Robin uniform. "This is awesome!"

"Get it," Thing 2 said. Grinning just as mad as her counterpart. "He won’t find anything anywhere else and he’ll have no choice but to wear it!"

Jason tucked the costume under his arm, saluted the girls, and walked up to the register. Already thinking of how the baby bird would look in the short skirt and vest. Tim’s waiting had really paid off for Jason.


	7. Condom Fairy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nonsense spun up from [this](http://kaitouhime1412.tumblr.com/post/63148626182/xd-i-just-read-this-fic-where-dick-was-scandalized)

The boxes of condoms and tubes of lube start showing up after Tim and Steph had to go out and pick up a smashed Jason and Dick from a diner a good five miles away from the bar that'd called for the pick up in the first place. Tim only connects the two events because he had born the brunt of Dick's drunken outrage over Tim and Jason's non-usage of protection while Jason snored into his neck and Steph tried not to crash them by laughing too hard.

Tim looked through the different boxes of various sized condoms that's appeared in the bathroom cabinet of his rooms in the manor seemingly overnight.

"Do guys with dicks this small really need condoms?" Jason ties off the end of one of the smaller ones he's blown up with air. Flicking it to join the other various sized condom balloons he's filling the tub with. Skinny things of different colors and shapes.

Tim pulls out one of the glow in the dark condoms and hands it over to Jason. "What exactly did you say to Dick anyway?"

"Not a damn clue," Jason shrugs as he unrolls the condom and stretches it out. "Think I can stuff these into Dick's bed without Alfred seeing?"

"No," Tim doesn't hesitate in answering. The condom blows up a sickly yellow color and almost looks like the beginning of a balloon animal. "But you're going to do it anyway."

The condoms start showing up slowly over the weeks. A strip and a small tube of lube in the glove compartment of the car Tim uses when he wants to be seen in public. A few boxes in his apartment in the city. Jason's grin the next time they tumble into one of his safehouses and he pulls out some, horrible, pink condoms let him know Dick's not just targeting Tim at least. A few singles slipped into the pocket of various clothing Tim or Jason own.

The embarrassment has long worn off and Tim's more bemused as his brother continues to leave them condoms everywhere Jason and Tim could possibly have sex. Jason nearly kills himself choking on some food the day Alfred corners Dick about a strip of condoms left in one of the library couches. Tim has to leave the kitchen before bursting out into laughter as well.

~

It stops being funny the day Tim reaches into a drawer at work for a pen and finds a very indiscreet box of condoms and some flavored lube. Tim nearly flushes, but while Tam's listing off his appointments for the day she'll still scent the blood in the air and swoop in for the humiliation kill. Tim forces himself to pull out a pen and casually shut the drawer before she can see the neon cardboard. Quietly seething inside and planning to maim Dick.

~

Jason looks way too gleeful when Tim's venting later in the day, "So I can fuck you over your desk now?"

"No," Tim glares as Jason completely misses the point. "No sex at work."

"But-" and that look is far too calculating for Tim's comfort. He's going to have to watch out for Jason trying to sneak in at WE.

"No, Jason!" Tim slumps back against his kitchen counter. Letting his head fall back far enough to thunk on the cabinets. Vowing to hurt Dick for putting him in a situation where he's going to have to worry about being ambushed in the office now.

"Hey," warm hands grip Tim around his waist, hoisting him up onto the counter as Jason steps between his legs. Pulling them up and around his body. "Relax. If Dickie wants to become our personal lube and condom sex fairy? Let him. Gives us all the supplies we'll ever need, right?"

"Right," Tim let his disdain for that idea drip through his voice even as he wraps his arms around Jason's neck. Fingers tangling in his hair, rubbing a lock between his thumb and forefinger as Jason presses closer. Rubbing just enough to start distracting them both. "Hm, think our lube and condom fairy left anything for us in here?"

Jason grins and, without moving away, pulls open one of the junk drawers. There's _two_ boxes of condoms with the lube in it. Tim lets himself be pushed to lie flat on the counter with a laugh.


	8. Kiss Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: Jason finds out explosives really get Tim going while making out. Part 1 because I can see two ways for it.

"What are you doing?" Tim asks. Sudden and loud right behind Jason’s left ear.

Jason doesn’t jump only out of extreme fear for how many tiny pieces he’ll blow his ass into if he fucks up the proportions on this mix. His hand stays steady as he adds the last chemical. “What,” Jason grits out through his teeth, trying not to yell, “does it look like?”

The table is littered with parts and bottles. Lengths of pipe and copper wire coils. It’s a small slice out of the Anarchist’s Cookbook and Jason knows that Tim has to recognize what most of it’s for. Has to recognize what a really _bad_ idea it is to distract Jason right now.

Jason eases off the pour. Letting the liquid drip to a stop. Concentrating very hard on not spilling anything on the threads where the cap will go. Tim breathes out a single harsh breath as Jason carefully seals off the little bomb he’s working on, “I know what you’re doing. I meant, why do you have so many explosives?”

"Variety is the spice of life," Jason sets the pipe aside and looks at the dozen other pipe bombs he’s made. Each one just different enough to be really interesting when set off. "They’re not deadly," much. They were still bombs but Jason hasn’t added any loose pieces for shrapnel. So as long as he's careful placing them, all he’ll get is property damage. Massive property damage.

Tim’s distracted running his fingers over the bombs. Cataloging what he can about each from sight alone. He’s leaning against Jason putting more weight than needed on him. Jason grins and hauls him down into his lap. Tim goes limp and let’s Jason maneuver him as he likes.

"Why you so interested?" Jason nuzzles the soft skin of Tim’s neck. "You wanna help me set them off?"

Tim’s breath catches in his throat and Jason never would have known if his lips weren’t pressed there so tightly. _Score._

"You like playing with fire, baby bird," it’s not a question and Jason grins as he sees Tim’s eyes, unfocused, go back to the bombs as Jason raises his head. "Want to tear something apart and watch it burn. Feel the blast in your chest and watch the sky light up."

Tim shivers and Jason pulls him into a wet kiss. Taking advantage as Tim’s mouth opens on a moan to tangle their tongues together. Tim’s holding on tight to his shoulders and Jason can feel him getting hard against his stomach. He’s loose and pliant in a way that has Jason reeling because it’s always been a fight with Tim. Physically and mentally to get him to admit he wants.

All thoughts Jason had for using the bombs to harass the Penguin are gone as Tim moans into his mouth. Replaced with a series of really crappy buildings near the docks that are already condemned anyway, because if this is what the thought of using them gets him? Jason cannot fucking wait to see what actually setting them off will do to Tim.


	9. Boom Boom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And number 2!

It’d been something Jason had picked up out of some drug dealing fucker’s den. Something that Jason hadn’t wanted to hold onto for too long because who the hell knew how stable the homemade bomb could be?

Jason had been expecting nearly anything from the pipe bomb when he set it. Instant explosion, no explosion. Anything.

He’s still surprised by the textbook perfect fireball that blows through the ship deck. An angry plume of fire and smoke that devours the ship in a matter of seconds. Shock waves expanding over the open water and giving a hearty kick to his ribs as the entire harbor lights up. Jason laughs because watching a couple million in drugs go up in flames _never_ gets old.

"Oh," the soft sound draws Jason’s attention to Tim. The young man is dripping wet beside him, but his face is absolutely rapt as he stares. Even uptight little Timmy Drake is in awe of the explosion. The fire reflecting off his cowl’s lenses and making his face look flushed.

"Wasn’t expecting that much kick were you, Red?" Jason says with a laugh. Enjoying himself for as long as he can before the mini Bat broke out the disapproving glare and got all righteous on him.

"That," Tim stops and licks his lips. Swallowing hard with an audible click and Jason stops laughing. Stops admiring his work and looks _hard_ at Red Robin.

It isn’t the fire turning his face red. That's an actual flush coming down from under the cowl. Which is absolutely not fair at all, because Jason wants to see that. To see the look in Tim’s eyes as he reaches up and yanks the man close.

"Really?" Jason growls. Hands wandering down Tim’s backside and enjoying the full body shudder he gets when leans forward to nip at his lips. "The big boom get you revved up?"

Because it’s not the fire. Jason’s seen Tim deal with fire and it’s all clinical and detached actions. It’s never left him nearly breathless and so damn responsive to Jason’s hands. “What-“

Tim surges forward and kisses him silent. Tongue working Jason’s lips open and teeth pressing threateningly before he tilts his head and turns it into something messier. Jason hears himself groan when Tim pulls back far enough to rasp, “Just shut up, and enjoy it.”

It’s probably the best advice Jason’s ever taken.


	10. Euphemisms

He forgets, a lot of the time, that Jason is only a few years older than Tim, and that he's mentally a year behind his physical age. Which still puts him firmly in teenage years despite the fact that Jason's never been carded a single time since his death. It's the streak of white that does it mostly, and the harsh lines that his scowl can carve into his face when he has to deal with stupid people.

Jason doesn't just look older though, he also acts older. Right up until he _doesn't_ and Tim's --painfully-- reminded of Jason's age.

"Jason!" Tim hisses as he squirms in the man's arms. Trying to twist his way out of the hold without doing either of them any damage. He's getting nowhere though, only managing to mess up bed sheets as Jason cackles in his ear. "Let me go!"

"No," Jason sings, his voice alight with unholy glee as he reaches out to turn the laptop back towards him. "I want to lay you out like a virgin sacrifice and insert my swizzle stick in your boy pussy. I want to park my meat yacht in your brown harbor. Batter dip the corndog and then baste your," Jason pauses and clicks around on the screen before he laughs, "pucker hole with my creamy love liquor!"

"Oh, god," Tim groans and tries to kick out, but Jason's got one thick thigh wrapped around his legs. Making it impossible for Tim to get any leverage. "Jason, stop!"

"What? You don't want me to feed you my baby juice, or powder your sweet cheeks?" Tim can feel Jason's laughter reverberating from where his chest is pressed tight to Tim's back. It's not something that happens nearly often enough. Jason laughing. Tim should be enjoying this moment. Should be _encouraging_ it, but- "I'll take you for a ride on my throbbing python of love, Rimadonna. My purple-helmeted warrior of lov-"

Jason makes a satisfying choking noise as Tim introduces his elbow to the man's stomach. Tim takes the opening to squirm free and snatch the laptop away. Fingers flying as he closes the windows and deletes the browser's history. Hopefully preventing Jason from finding his way back to that horrid glossary. 

Jason's curled up on the bed next to him. Still clutching his stomach and quaking with laughter. His eyes bright with tears and face turning an awful red as he gasps between bouts of laughter. Tim scowls at him which only seems to set the man off more, and goes back to the files he'd been reviewing before he'd made the poor choice of leaving his laptop open when taking a shower. "You are _not_ funny. At all."

"I'm a goddamned riot, babe," Jason gets out when he's calm enough to talk again. The occasional chuckle pushing past his lips as he rolls over to press his face against Tim's thigh. One calloused hand wandering under the boxers Tim managed to get on before being pulled into bed. "Don't I get something for trying to expand our sexual vocabulary?"

"No, in fact, I think I feel a headache coming on," Tim saves all two lines that he's managed to add, because Jason's hand is getting intent in a way that's all too distracting. Combined with the goofy grin on Jason's face.... 

Tim sighs and sets the laptop aside. Leaning back against the headboard and giving Jason his blandest look. "You may have to suck start my libido for me."

Jason doesn't quite manage to stop laughing for a while, and that turns out to be even more interesting than euphemisms.


	11. Pumpkin Spice Latte

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for stargazing and lattes after the boys not being able to sleep in their rooms at the manor.

The room smells stale in a way that makes Jason’s throat lock up and his heart start double timing, because his fingers itch where the skin had torn and the nails bent back at the remembered scent. Jason waits until he’s sure Alfred —the only damn reason why he’d ever willingly step foot back in the manor— is gone before escaping into the hall. The manor is big enough he can find himself a bed or couch that won’t make him wake up in a cold sweat.

"Jason?" Tim’s voice floats down the hall and he turns to find the man walking towards him. A bunch of thick looking blankets folded over his arms and a wry smile on his face. Clever eyes scan Jason’s face and Tim’s smile turns concerned. " You alright?"

"Fine," Jason says shortly and steps away from the room the more space he puts between him and it the better he feels. "I just, can’t," Jason jerks his head back at the closed door.

"Yeah, me too," and that’s not just bullshit words. It’s the truth. Tim gets it. His reasons for not moving back in are different, but he still gets what Jason’s not saying. "I was coming to see if you wanted to go up to the roof."

The roof actually sounds pretty damn terrific to Jason. It can't get any more open than right under the sky. “Why the hell not?”

Jason follows Tim to the small balcony at the end of the hall. The window is already open and he hands over half the blankets before shimmying up. It’s any easy climb for them both, the roof of the manor as familiar as any roof in Gotham to them. Jason knows where they’re going even before they’re past the first series of chimneys.

The flat landing was part of the original design of the manor. An early indication that being high and hidden was a Wayne family trait. It’d been a favorite spot for Jason when he wanted to be alone, unless Dick was around. Then it’d always been best to avoid high places.

Tim’s already been up here once. Jason looks at the pillows and simple looking telescope in bemusement. “Really? Star gazing? Should I have lit some candles for you at dinner too?”

Tim doesn’t look ashamed in the least as he starts spreading the blankets out. Building a comfortable looking nest for the two of them. “Only if you want me to use them to light your hair up,” Tim pulls the bundle from Jason’s arms. “You can’t see the sky very well in Gotham. Not like you can out here. I miss it sometimes.”

Which is true. Gotham has her own stars that block out the night, and none of them are any taller than Wayne Tower. Jason let’s Tim push him down as he contemplates the rich darkness of the sky and the vivid pinpricks that make up its constellations. Tim fusses over Jason as much as he did with the blankets. Pushing and pulling until Jason’s too comfortable to move before arranging himself around Jason.

"Hate to break it to you but I don’t think we’ll be using that telescope much," Jason says as he wraps Tim in his arms. Breathing in Tim’s shampoo and the night air as he fully relaxes. Content not to move a single muscle until morning.

Tim’s still moving though. Wriggling and stretching to the side until he pulls back with a metallic scrape. A green thermos radiating heat is held up triumphantly. “You say that now but wait until you’ve tried this.”

"Hot chocolate?" Jason guesses. Which isn’t a bad idea. Alfred always makes a mean brew of the stuff.

"Pumpkin spice latte," Tim pronounces proudly. A grin edging his lips up as the faint scent of it hits Jason’s nose.

"I love you," Jason says immediately. Eyes greedily fastened on the the thermos as he reaches for it. The full scent hits him as he opens it and Jason has absolutely everything he could ever need right here. He pauses in the act of taking a sip and looks down at Tim. "I mean that."

“I know,” Tim says with a fond smile. “And I love you too, but if that goes cold before I can drink some I’ll never forgive you.”

Jason nearly snorts burning liquid out of his nose as he laughs.


	12. Musically Inclined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request asking for Jay playing piano and Tim's POV.

The sound of music barely registers in Tim’s sleep deprived mind before he’s tracking it down. Chasing the faint tune of a piano through the still and quiet manor instead of going to sleep like he should be doing.

It’s been one of _those_ nights though. Tim has no illusions on how calm his dreams will be if he does go to sleep and any distraction is welcome.

None of them are very musically inclined so it’s a surprise for Tim to stop outside of the music room and realize what he’s hearing is live music and not recorded like he’d first thought. He’s absolutely speechless when he looks in and sees who is playing.

Jason sits before the grand piano that Tim could have sworn was never used before. His fingers dancing across the ivory keys with an absent minded grace that speaks volumes about his expertise. He’s not even paying them much attention. His gaze fixed halfway between the keys and the sheet music on the stand. Distant and peaceful in a way Tim’s never seen on the man before. Not when he was Robin and definitely not after.

The music sounds classical. Vaguely familiar enough for Tim to anticipate the flow of it. To listen. Transfixed by the melody as well as the things he’s seeing in Jason’s unguarded face. Hardly daring to breathe for fear of drawing attention to himself. An act that Tim _knows_ will shatter that fragile peace faster than anything else.

Tim’s very presence seems to bring out the worst in Jason, and it’s only in moments like these that he can really feel close to the man. Moments when he’s relegated back to stalking from the shadows with his heart twisting at the forced distance.

Jason plays on. For hours or minutes --Tim loses track-- and Tim hovers in the shadows of the door the entire time. Watching and listening for as long as possible. Committing every detail to memory.


	13. Story Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for Tim wanting Jay to read to him.

Jason’s minding his own damn business when he gets a brick of a book lobbed at his head. Jason catches it on reflex and glares at Tim as he comes into the room. “What the fuck did I do to you?”

The _look_ he gets for that is an effective reminder that the list of things Jason’s done to Tim could easily be as long as —Jason flips the book to see the title— War and Peace. With full annotations, and, Jason flips open to a random page, Tim’s obsessively tiny scribblings in the margins.

"Read to me," Tim’s voice is as tight as the muscles in his back when he sits down next to Jason. Primly straight and not a single bend or slouch in sight. His hands fist tight in a throw pillow. Denting the fabric with almost enough force to rip holes in it. "I don’t care what. Just read something. Anything."

Jason eyes Tim and bites back a few remarks. Tim looks ready to snap and start biting heads off. Righting the book he looks at the page. He thinks about reading it for all of three seconds before tossing it aside. The book makes a tremendous noise as it bangs to the floor because it’s a hardback edition.

He digs into the cushions of the couch they're on hoping Alfred hasn’t done his usual thorough cleaning of the room yet. He’s rewarded when he finds the worn cover of a book. It’s thin and slim but Jason pulls it out and opens it to the first page. Reaching out to pull Tim’s stiff body against his own, because if he's going to be telling bedtime stories he's going to do it right.

"Coraline discovered the door a little while after they moved into the house," Tim sighs and goes boneless as Jason reads. Not stopping even when he feels the flutter of Tim’s breath against his neck. Tension bleeding out at a fast rate.


	14. Performing Arts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for writer Jay who works in a bar and ballet dancer Tim.

The fucking ballet is the last place Jason would think he’d willingly go to. It’s not his scene, not his crowd. There’s no smoke and smell of spilt beer amongst the ritzy people milling with their champagne flutes and diamond _everything_. There’s no boisterous laughter in the carefully practiced titters hidden behind their perfectly manicured hands. No honesty to be found except for the tiny corner Jason’s staked out for himself in the lobby.

Jason frowns at the sneers he’s getting in the button down shirt and good slacks his publicist insisted he get for the signings Jason refuses to attend. Maybe the battered leather jacket is too much for their delicate sensibilities. Maybe it’s the sneer he’s been giving these pretentious fucks from the start. He doesn’t know and he doesn’t have a single fuck to give about it.

They’re all here to be seen. Talking about the ‘art’ of it all like they have any idea what that word even means. They’re not the ones with a view into the old dance studio the dancers practice in from sun up till sun down every day. The glass front of the place a perfect window to see the blood, sweat, and tears that goes into making this night absolutely flawless.

Without that insight they can’t truly appreciate what they’re about to see.

Jason has spent weeks watching the dancers between slow shifts at the bar. Lunches where the most complicated order is a beer and basket of fries. Between bouts of rambling thoughts scribbled in his battered notebook that sometimes pan out into a new chapter and sometimes don’t.

He’s watched the surprisingly muscled men and women perform movements repeatedly. Over and over again. Falling and stumbling their way to perfection. It’s humbling and inspiring to watch their dedication to their craft.

And if Jason’s eyes stray to one particular dark haired man —the one who always arrives first and leaves last— there’s no one to call him on it most days. Though he’d nearly had to break Roy’s nose when the man presented him with the expensive ass ticket to the night performance and told him to nut up.

The lobby empties slowly and Jason lets most of the people in ahead of him before following. _Maybe_ , he thinks, as he enters the theater, _maybe_.


	15. Siren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for Siren Tim who was raised to be Ra's right hand man and uses his voice to get everything he needs meeting Batman and Robin and getting the best of them. This is put here only because while Siren!Tim will mess around with anyone, he's actually attracted to Jason.

"Damian," the voice is like liquid velvet. Wrapping around Damian in ways he does not recall it doing before, and Damian wants nothing more in that split second than to do whatever that voice bids him to do.

The familiar voice stops him cold, arm extended to shoot out a line and body tensed to jump. Damian does not want to turn to look. He wants to keep running and never stop, but Richard has already stopped and is turning. Damian cannot allow his brother to face this threat alone.

"Siren," Damian greets the older man wrapped in spotless gray with a stiff nod that befits both of their official stations. Blue eyes crinkle in silent laughter and Damian feels himself flush at the mocking nod he’s given back. "What brings you out of Grandfather’s court?"

The mention of his grandfather is enough to stop the questions Richard had been preparing to ask. The cowl gives little away but Damian is close enough to feel the shift of his brother’s weight as he moves into a fighting stance.

"I wanted to visit you," Siren glides forward. All grace and _intent_. Richard stiffens and pulls himself up to loom reflexively over the smaller assassin. Damian dearly regrets not sharing all he knows with his family now, because there’s no time to tell him how stupid that move is. How very little Siren cares for or about intimidation tactics. “Well, hello there. Batman isn’t it? Why don’t you have a seat and let me talk with your little brother?”

Richard shudders. The cape rippling as his knees fold under him. Surprise etches it’s way across his face, and he fights it. Fights the compulsion that has nothing to do with Siren’s voice —extensive tests have proven that— and everything to do with the _need_ the man engineers in others to please him.

How he does it is still a mystery. One that Grandfather allows Siren to keep in exchange for never using it against him and him alone.

Damian swallows as Siren turns to him. Unwinding the scarf from his face to give a cool and perfect smile. He’s older now, as is Damian, and those years have been kind to him.

"Damian," Siren’s voice twists inside of him. Like it never has before when the man had been responsible for Damian’s training. Igniting a feverish heat that only desperately wants to please. "We have so much to get caught up on."


	16. Siren

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for more Siren!Tim.

Siren packs a few suits in case he needs to drop in on the corporate side of Ra’s empire in America. He has his orders but no one —not even Ra’s— pretends Siren will follow them to the letter. He likes keeping his options open.

The suits are only practical. It’s been a while since the West side of the company has dealt with Timothy Drake. They could be getting complacent under Talia’s hand. Siren might need to rattle some cages. Remind those polished and soft business men of their place.

The gray uniform goes in last. Soft and pristine in its in-between color. Because Siren is not a White Ghost and he’s not a ninja. He belongs in neither the light nor the shadows, but in the borders of the two.

It will be nice to see Damian again. To see what the past few years with his father have done for the boy. He’s fourteen? No, fifteen now. That awkward age where everything changes.

A smile curves his lips as he shuts his bag and a woman melts out of the shadows to retrieve it. He hasn’t heard of the boy taking any lover yet and that is something he’ll have to fix while gathering the information Ra’s wants. He recalls from his early childhood how horrendously Puritan people in America get about such things. It won’t do for Damian to be held back by those views.

And maybe, while he’s thinking about lovers…

Reports from Talia are positive. Jason Todd has pulled out of most of the Pit madness. He shows few of the expected side effects. His will reasserting itself wonderfully now that he's on his own.

Siren wonders if his eyes still blaze green and if his kisses will still be filled with teeth and blood. It’s something he’s looking forward to finding out on his little trip.


	17. Performing Arts 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for more of the Chapter 14 universe.

"He's here!" Bart says. Excited and energetic the way he only gets before a performance. Tim ignores his manic bouncing and sprinting with the ease that only comes from long practice.

Tim bends slowly. Stretching each muscle until his fingers can touch the floor. His back easing into it and loosening. He counts his breaths and lets utter calm wash through his mind.

"He doesn't look too happy," Kon remarks. Tim can see his best friend out of the corner of his eye. They're all crowded around the small well hidden window that looks down into the theater lobby. The temptation to size up the audience too much for them to resist like he knew would happen the minute they were shown the layout of the theater. The empty second floor meant for storage is too perfect for warm up routines, and the room backstage is needed for the costuming more than anything else.

"Well, it's not like he's used to being around rich people," Cassie says, and Tim wonders --vaguely as he rotates his right ankle-- who they're talking about. "I mean, The Tavern is all working class patrons, right?"

_Ah_. The bar across from the studio that the women have been raving about for the past few weeks. Tim arches backward, feeling his spine melt into the move. The him they're talking about must be that bartender that Tim's heard entirely too much about lately. From Bart and even --much to his surprises-- Kon as well.

Tim really wishes his friends would get their priorities straight. It's opening night and they've got less than twenty minutes before they have to be in place before the curtain rises. They'll suffer for it later and Tim smiles, just a little, at the thought of one of them getting a cramp at the worst possible time.

"No, they're not his crowd alright," Anita says. Amusement coloring her voice as she uses a broken coat rack as a makeshift bar and pulls her leg straight up. She at least, has the good sense to use her time well. "Not going by his last book at least. What was the title of it? Tim?" 

"What?" Tim blinks caught off guard and looks up. Everyone is staring expectantly at him. "What book? I thought you were all talking about that bartender."

"Well, yeah!" Bart spins across the room. Fluid and graceful as he grins. "But he's also a writer. Bartending is just what he does for fun."

"That last book you lent me," Anita's smile is serene and lofty as Tim's mind stutters to a stop. Calmness being replaced by a sense of unreality because- "The one about social equality and class privilege. That one."

"Jason Todd," Tim manages to choke out, and doesn't miss the triumphant _glee_ in Cassie's face as she exchanges a high five with Anita. "You mean to tell me that _Jason Todd_ works at the bar across the street from the studio, you all _knew_ this, and you didn't tell me before now?"

Kon shrugs. Unrepentant as he says, "We tried to get you to come along with us man, but you never wanted to. All your fault."

Tim loves his friends dearly, but he's going to kill them for this. Slowly and painfully. Tim pushes between Kon and Cassie and looks out the window. Scanning the well dressed crowd below. "Where is he?"

"Right corner," Bart calls out from behind him and Tim shifts his attention to-

"In the leather jacket," Cassie offers. Completely unnecessarily because Tim's jaw is already unhinged. "So, should we take this to mean you'll love his body as much as you already love his mind?"

Someone's cackling and it just might be Kon, but Tim's too preoccupied to care. Because the answer to that question is, _yes_. A resounding yes that he's sure is audible to everyone in a five mile radius, because Jason Todd is gorgeous. He's got a brain that makes Tim drool, the courage to point out all the things that are wrong in the world, and looks really good in leather. How can Tim be expected to think right after that revelation?

"Come on," hands grab Tim's arm and Anita grins when he turns to glare at her. "You can moon over that hot ass later. We got to get in place right now though."

Bart and Cassie are snickering and Kon's making a face as he goes out the door to the stairs. Tim glares at them all. "I hate you all so much."

"Yeah, sure," Cassie gets out through her snickering. "You just say that again after we take you out for celebratory drinks at The Tavern tonight."

He has the worst friends ever. Tim tries to clear his mind, to get back the calm that he needs to be at his best for this performance. It comes grudgingly as Tim refuses to look back out the window and instead heads for the stairs.


	18. Caroling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huh, I was thinking about JayTim and the holidays, and how Tim probably hates Christmas music before November with an unholy passion. Hilarity followed and quickly segued into WTF seriousness.

"Uh," Jason tilts his head to the side and squints. The fiery inferno and hellish music doesn't go away. The slightly unhinged giggling does get louder though. "Red? You alright there?"

Tim wheels around and the demented grin on his face nearly makes Jason step back and look for cover. He knows the man is drugged absolutely out of his mind on something that no one has quite worked a cure out for yet, but that knowledge doesn't mean shit when Jason's confronted by the hyper and _giggling_ mess before him. Even with the Red Robin mask on Jason can tell how off the man's expression is.

"No more, Jay," Tim sways forward. A detonator, used, clatters to the roof as he staggers. Still so full of manic energy even as his body is failing him. "They can't do it anymore!"

"Do what, babe?" Jason grunts as he reaches out and catches Tim. Stopping him from breaking his face open on the roof. He damns Bruce and Dick for not calling him back sooner when Tim was first drugged. When they had Tim in lock down in the Cave, and before they'd figured out how very little all their security measures meant to a determined Tim. "You're so fucking high right now. Do you even know what you're doing?"

Tim's giggles subside into a fit of hiccups and Jason tugs the cowl down. The light of the fire shows how pale he is, and highlights the dark circles under his eyes. Glinting off of something wet that Jason doesn't label tears because the second he does that he's going to go out there and kill some drug pimping fuckers. Which is the last thing that Tim needs right now as he looks up at Jason. Serious for all that he looks delusional. "The music, Jay," he whispers his confession with all the earnestness evangelicals give their prayers, "the Christmas music won't play before Thanksgiving anymore!"

"Okay...." Jason glances at the burning building with dawning comprehension. The hellish sounds he'd heard earlier now sounding just familiar enough for him to place them. He feels his lips twitch as Tim nuzzles into his chest. "Congrats, babe, you burned the only muzak store in Gotham down."

Which Jason can't find it in himself to blame Tim for, though he knows Tim's going to feel all sorts of guilt over it later. He's pretty sure that most of the places playing Christmas music --way too fucking early-- use satellite radio these days, but keeps that tidbit to himself. He's had a hard enough time tracking Tim down as it is and doesn't need the man haring off to figure out what to destroy next. "Let's celebrate with some of Alfred's hot chocolate."

"I want marshmallows," Tim sighs as Jason drags him to the edge of the roof furthest from where firetrucks are finally pulling in. He shakes as he sings a tuneless song under his breath. "No more Christmas music, no more music-"

Jason grits his teeth as he pulls out a jumpline. This is all going to be funny as fuck later, but for the moment he has to concentrate hard on getting Tim better and not going on a rampage. His priority now is getting Tim back to the Cave where, hopefully, they've managed to pull some magical cure out of their asses that'll get Tim back to his normal self. 

"Yeah," Jason growls as they fly over the streets. Tim feels far too light in his arms, and the uniform is terrifyingly loose in a few places, "No more music."

"Ever, ever," Tim might have said, but the words are too low as the wind whistles around them, and Jason knows he could be wrong as the fire fades behind them. Swallowed by the night.


	19. Sleep Debt

Laughter rips through Tim's apartment. Sudden and loud, jerking Tim out of a focused daze. Almost making him push his laptop straight off the kitchen table. He blinks and looks at the time in the corner of the screen. As amazed to realize it's been over five hours since he last checked as he is by the fact that Jason is apparently still in his apartment so long after patrol ended.

Tim rubs his eyes and stretches. Feeling and hearing his spine pop back into place as he stands to follow the continued laughter. Jason's all but _baying_ and Tim can hear the faint sounds of the television playing over the sound. The fact that he'd managed to ignore that is a little worrying.

Jason's lost his mask, boots, and jacket and is sprawled out on Tim's couch. Head tilted back as he laughs. Tim looks at the television and sees he's got one of the million crime shows on. The ones about real cases. Not the faked dramas that are so popular and always get Dick red in the face when proper procedure gets blown out the window for a plot point. Tim flops onto the end of the couch free from Jason's limbs and picks up the case being explained rather easily. A woman is dead and Tim's certain it's the current husband despite the announcer going on about the two exes.

It's almost always the current spouse Tim's found. Jason eventually quiets down to the occasional chuckle. 

Jason grins when Tim raises an eyebrow at him. "The woman's dad," he explains and the show helpfully flips to the man in question answering and unheard question. "He knew the son in law killed her and the crazy son of a bitch hires the man to keep an eye on him," Jason shifts and he's closer to Tim, eyes bright as he snorts. "He's got a _sign_ business. The cops worked faster on the case because they were afraid the dad'd shove the fucker right off the roof of a building one day."

Tim gets a vivid vision of the future and it involves a lot of criminals learning first hand they can't fly. 

Jason's grin gets wider. "You're lips are twitching. You know damn well it's funny, laugh."

"No it's not," Tim presses his lips tight together but he can feel the traitorous things pulling up at the corners. Jason's grin get's a little demented and Tim caves quickly, because he knows that look from Dick. He's not prepared to find out how far Jason's willing to go to get Tim to admit. "A little. It's a little funny."

"Liar," Jason turns back to the show which is winding down with the widow in custody. "I'm impressed though."

"With what," Tim relaxes into the couch and decides not to ask why Jason's still hanging around. "The dad's sainthood for not doing it or the killer's balls for taking the job?"

"Either? Both?" Jason shrugs as the show goes into the next case. Starting with a bunch of teenagers drinking. Yay. Tim can see where this one's going already. "I was talking about you being able to look at the screen without your eyes crossing. You haven't slept in over three days now, Timmy."

"I-" Tim closes his eyes and does a quick calculation. "That's not true."

Technically. He got a good fifteen minute nap in yesterday at work. Which reminds him....

"Oh, I don't think so," Tim's not even halfway up on his feet before Jason's got his wrist in a grip and is pulling him back down. "You're done for the day. You _need_ sleep."

"What? No, I'm fine! I've got," Tim tries to recall. There's something he has to do today, he knows that much. "I have to go into the office."

"No you don't," Jason hasn't actually let go or stopped pulling and Tim finds himself being pulled flat out across the couch. Head and shoulders resting in Jason's lap. "I've got orders for you, and they include using whatever force necessary to make sure you get sleep."

"You follow orders?" Tim asks skeptically. Feeling put out at being manhandled, but not having the energy to really fight it.

"Some orders," Jason says. Eyes already back on the television. His right arm heavy over Tim's chest to keep him pinned down. He glances down briefly and snorts at Tim's continued skeptical look. "Babs, alright? Babs roped me into keeping you in today. She's already called in for you, and the things she's threatened if you don't get a few hours of sleep really aren't worth whatever you think is more important."

Tim grimaces, because he really can't argue that. Bruce? Sure. Dick? A little more difficult, but manageable. Babs is only surpassed by Alfred on the list of people Tim can't say no to. "Fine, let me up and I'll sleep."

"Nope," Jason says. "You never sleep on your bed. You go in there and you'll end up working on your other case files instead of sleeping. You can thank Babs for that information."

Tim groans but stops trying to sit up because of course Babs is right. Tim doesn't sleep in the bed he has, but mostly because his couch has proven to be so much more comfortable. Tim hunches down despite the way Jason's arm just really isn't moving and props his feet on the far arm before closing his eyes. Despite the noise of the television and Jason's occasional sneering comment or laughter he doesn't have much trouble falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thing about a father hiring his son-in-law who he was 100% sure killed his daughter? True. I was watching one of the true crime shows and the man was interviewed, saying he did it to keep the man close. Also, he thought about giving him a good shove more than a few times, and the interviewed cops were kinda worried he'd go through with it before they could get the evidence together. It was the most hilarious/sad thing ever.


	20. On The Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas eve for the 12 Days of JayTim.

Tim picks up a plastic car and a deceptively colored piece of plastic that he’d only found with what feels like the softest part of his foot. He dumps them into the toy chest behind the couch before turning the clear that off as well. There’s a small army of action figures arranged in an epic battle that get swept up in the empty popcorn bowl before he dumps them in the chest. He checks around the cushions for any toys that might have wriggled their way down. He doesn’t find any but he does come up with a dino shaped chicken nugget. He stares at it for a while. There’s no mold on it, but it’s cold and hard so it’s not from tonight’s dinner. He tries to remember when they last had them before giving up and dropping it in the bowl.

It gets dumped in the kitchen trash before Tim rinses the bowl off in the sink and wedges it into the dishwasher. It’s full enough that Tim adds soap and sets it to run. There’s a couple cups of juice and Jason’s plate from dinner still on the table. He rinses those and leaves them in the sink for the morning. There’s a stack of tupperware on the counter filled with cookies and other treats that appeared when Tim was trying to find one place open that still had milk after he noticed the date on the carton they had in the fridge. He’s sorry to have missed Alfred but knows he’ll see the older man the next day.

The kitchen is as clean as it ever gets and Tim wanders back into the living room. Clicking off the television and gathering a stray blanket that’s made it’s way out to the floor. He checks it out of habit, but it’s not sticky or wet so he feels safe in assuming it’s clean. He hits the lamp and makes his way through the dark hall to the rooms. He eases the door open slowly so that it doesn’t squeak and peaks into the disaster area that is the kids’ room. The toys are mostly pushed to one side for once, but the bunk beds are empty. Tim throws the blanket on the bottom bunk and turns to cross the hall.

The lamp on Tim’s side of the bed is on and Jason’s sprawled out on his side of the bed eyes shut. John is sprawled in the middle of the bed fast asleep. Mouth open as the boy breathes through a nose that’s just starting to get over his cold. Carrie is curled up on the other side of Jason. The only thing visible of her a tuft of hair and one hand fisted in Jason’s shirt.

Tim chuckles and moves in to pull the blankets away from the little girl’s face. “Couldn’t get them down in their beds could you?”

"Shush you," Jason growls without opening his eyes. "They were plotting ways to trap Santa."

"Well, we can’t have that," Tim says with a grin as he walks over to the other side of the bed. Shifting John enough to get under the covers. The boy immediately rolls over and clings to Tim. Snorting once before going still and quiet. "I don’t think even Arkham could hold him."

"Like Arkham can hold anyone," Jason mutters as Tim snaps the light off without moving John too much. "Just get some sleep. You know the little monsters’ll be up before the sun."

Which is true. Tim doubts they’ll make it to six before Carrie’s jumping on the bed and John’s prodding them awake. Impatient to see what Santa brought them in the night. It’s warmer than Tim’s used to with the children sleeping with them, but Tim doesn’t mind the extra heat and settles down quicker than he’s used to. It’s not long before Jason’s breathing evens out and Tim almost chuckles again, because all it takes is one day of running after two sugared up kids to wear them out anymore.

Tim can’t find it in him to mind though. Not one bit.


	21. Mafia Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blame goes [here](http://kaitouhime1412.tumblr.com/post/71367697191/its-been-a-while-but-my-ideas-are-pretty-dried-up). Basically a gender bent AU with Tim as the mafia princess and Jason as the body guard.

The Waynes have always been in Gotham. From the first tree that was chopped down they've been there. Building the city up with sweat and blood and tears. Not all of it their own. Especially not in the last hundred or so years. Wayne is a name that was steeped in blood, money, and everything illegal long before the word mafia became popular in the country.

It's well known that to do anything in Gotham requires Wayne approval, and if you want to get anywhere you join the Family.

Jason joined as soon as he was able to. A snot nosed little punk running information and the lowest hanging fruit on the job list. He worked hard at it though and that's what mattered most to the Boss. Bruce Wayne himself had seen something in Jason. Something he liked and Jason has always been grateful for the chance to live up to that regard.

Even when that regard led him to a permanent bodyguard position with one of the Boss' two most highly prized possessions. His daughters.

Timothy and Damian are Waynes to the core. From their looks to the names that no one has ever dared to make fun of. Any other kid with a family tradition of naming everyone after an ancestor --regardless of gender-- would have the shit beat out of them, but not the Wayne girls. Oh, no. Even without the threat of Daddy they were more than capable of handling things on their own.

A fact that had quickly shut down the simmering resentment Jason felt upon learning his "promotion" was kicking him up to being the keeper of one of two very spoiled rich girls.

Timothy is the oldest. A scandal even before she was born. A whirlwind romance of the feared Bruce Wayne and a soft looking society girl that ended with the woman leaving Gotham and Wayne keeping their daughter. Jason remembers wondering --when he was old enough to understand the talk that still circulated-- why a tough man like Wayne would want anything to do with the stuck up rich people.

He gets it now though. If that woman had been anything at all like Timmy, he really gets it.

Timmy with her smile so sharp he wants to give her a necklace made of razor blades to warn the world exactly what kind of fresh hell they're dealing with when she comes out to play. Except he's sure she'd use the damn thing on his balls the next time he "accidentally" forgets to put the toilet seat down.

Timmy full of wrath and ranting about domestic shit is the hottest thing Jason's ever seen. It will also, according to Dick, one day be the last thing he ever sees before she kills him, but Dick's banging the Demon Princess so he doesn't really get a say on what's dangerous or not.

Officially, Jason was chosen because of his skill and loyalty to the family. One of two candidates for the position of Boss when Bruce retires. Unofficially, Jason's pretty sure Timmy pointed him out like she does with her clothes. Expensive numbers that come in a catalog with no prices or numbers. Just a smiling person who takes down everything she wants and delivers it all --expertly tailored to fit her measurements-- a week later. Jason feels like that some days. Chosen and tailored to her tastes without protest.

He's her bodyguard only when she can't afford to get her own hands dirty or needs to make a specific point. She's an unholy terror who _likes_ getting blood under her nails any other time. Jason instead takes other roles. Cook, driver, pack mule, coffee bringer, the last check before she sails into public, the most convenient bedwarmer ever invented.

All things he'd never thought he'd ever have to do when he joined the Family, and he'd resent the hell out of it if Timmy ever asked him to do any of it. Ever expected it of him instead of happily going along with it when Jason took on the roles of his own free will.

He dares anyone who sees Timmy stumbling out of bed --hair a mess, and face creased from a pillow-- with blurry, incoherent eyes to _not_ bring her coffee. Especially not after seeing the way she practically worships the first cup. He dares anyone to watch the woman work a deal for a week straight with very few breaks for food or sleep, and not fix up a few things to put in hands reach. Small things that she most likely doesn't even know she's eating. He dares anyone to see Timmy, both in and out of public, and _not_ want to roll her onto the nearest bed.

Jason'll laugh and call them a fucking liar before ending them for even thinking about touching Timmy. Because she's his now.

His sarcastic bundle of death and ambition. That can go from deadly efficient to geeky glee in a matter of seconds. The real contender for the Wayne throne with her sister. Soft and sweet when she wants to be, and vicious as nothing else when she needs to be.

Jason never thought he'd fall in love when the Boss asked him for a favor, but it's not a bad deal for him. Not bad at all.


	22. Heatwave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College AU.

The apartment is cramped and hot with the window AC unit cranking out it's last, dying rattle. A bedroom, a bathroom, and an open room that combines kitchen and living room. It's not cheap even with rent split two ways, but it's all they really need. A floor, the walls, and a roof. Enough room for the two of them an all their things. 

Jason brings books --so does Tim but his books aren't like Jason's-- leather jackets and a beat up couch that someone might have been murdered on. Tim brings a mattress, three laptops, and a terrifyingly tall stack of milk crates filled with photographs. They've bought two plates and mugs, an assortment of forks and spoons, and one bowl. Jason found a coffee pot left unattended on campus during move in day, and Tim keeps scrounging up ramen and popcorn bags from community rooms he shouldn't have access to. They're going to have to find something to replace the AC unit though, and it's going to have to be soon.

Tim spreads out on the worn but clean floor in front of the couch. Trying desperately to absorb some of the coolness lingering in the fake wood. He's lost his shirt and pants already, and is giving serious thoughts to losing his boxers too. His hair is damp with sweat and he can feel it beading up in the dip of his lower back.

Jason's in sweatpants on the couch. Book in one hand and green sharpie in the other. He almost glimmers in the fading light from the windows, and Tim would love to capture that on film but it's too hot for him to move. Jason makes a noise at something he's reading and leans down.

The tip of the marker isn't cool anymore but the ink gliding across his skin is enough of a relief from the heat that he hasn't protested much when Jason started using him as a note card again. He's, sadly, gotten used to it. To having quotes and poems scrawled across his arms. To finding bizarre references inked onto the soles of his feet, and even the odd grocery list reminder across his chest.

Today's notes can't be taking too well. Tim's sure that if he turned his head back he'd find the green ink bleeding across his skin. Turning his sweat colors as the words melt away. Jason mustn't mind though. He spends as much time watching the words he's written as the book he's holding. Eyes flickering across Tim's body, oddly pleased in a way that would have led to both of them losing the last of their clothes if it weren't so hot.

Jason drags his fingers down Tim's back when he's done writing, and the tips are green when he pulls back. Almost a match for his eyes which are sharp and focused on him. A bead of sweat swells and becomes heavy enough to roll, slowly, down Jason's chest. Tim wonders if Jason wants to take a picture as much as Tim wants to write a few words in the trail of that bead of sweat.

"We need a fan," Tim says and it's the first thing either of them has said in hours.

Jason snorts and turns back to his book. "Fuck that, I'm waiting for the sun to go down and I'm exchanging our AC for the asshole's down the hall."

Tim hums and closes his eyes. The asshole down the hall is a meth addict who thinks Tim's name is 'bitch.' He'll encourage Jason's larceny ways in this matter. "Ok, wake me up and I'll provide the distraction."

Jason grunts something affirmative and Tim drifts to the sound of pages being turned and the feel of ink rolling down his skin.


	23. Silent Watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do still live. Just been very busy with other things.

Ra's' interest in Tim had always been a sharp prick in the back of Jason's mind. One that's passed through the full range of emotions, from sharp indignation all the way to the heavy fear he deals with now whenever the thought of it crosses his mind.

Jason knows all to well what catching the interest of an Al Ghul entails after all. Knows the danger that is their lives in Gotham and the probability, no, the _certainty_ that death is coming for Tim. Sooner rather than later, because the man is pulling crazy ass stunts and his nine lives are well past their expiration date.

It's with that sharp prick that's now fear that Jason watches the exchange between Tim and one of Ra's' many messengers. They're like cockroaches. No matter how many 'accidents' they have they just keep popping up at really inconvenient times.   
This night has been as close to a disaster as Gotham can get without involving mass body counts, and Ra's has been quick to prod at the near catastrophe that Tim had just barely managed to avoid (alone, because the stupid fuck sure as hell didn't call for back up before Jason stumbled across him). The old man is keeping a close eye on him, and Jason _knows_ what that means.

It means that if Tim had been off by those three precious seconds that let him live there wouldn't even be a body left to bury, and not just because of the bomb some fuckhead had wired up. There would have been ninjas everywhere raising hell, and the whole city would be collapsing. Keeping everyone nice and busy while Ra's took Tim for a little dip in the Pit.

Tim shakes his head sharply, and he's not even looking at the messenger. Talking to the air around the man because, of course, Ra's is listening even when he's not actually here. His movement is precise and very controlled. Like everything about Tim.

The Pit would utterly destroy him.

There is no controlling it, the Pit rage, but Jason's spent his entire life in the grip of overpowering emotions. He's _used_ to it, he knows how to _handle_ it. How to direct it, to use it, to bottle it. It controls him, but he also controls it. Now.

Tim doesn't have the first clue about any of that though. Harsh emotion? Sure. Powerful emotions? Yeah, been there a time or two. But emotion so strong that it's uncontrollable? That he has no choice _but_ to give up all his control?

Hell no.

Timothy Drake's never been totally out of control in his entirely too short life. Not once. Even when shit was hitting the fan, Jason hadn't been able to help but admire the way the man kept just enough control to not totally wipe out. 

Ra's would throw Tim to the Pit, and what came out of it's green hell would be nothing like the man himself. Jason doesn't know (doesn't like to even think about it really) what that thing would be like, but he knows it damn well wouldn't be Tim in any shape or form. It would be rage and impulse. Hot and unending, with no controlling it at all.

So, he watches. Carefully and quietly. Filling the bay with Ra's' people, and shadowing Red Robin on patrols when he can. Keeping watch for those opportunities that ninja love to take advantage of as well as the plain old openings that Gotham uses. Blocking them as best he can even though Tim, the suicidal fucker, doesn't make it one bit easy on him.

It sucks even on the best of nights, but Jason keeps at it. _Someone_ has to watch out for Little Red after all, and no one else in the family seems to be stepping up to the job.

Jason carefully studies the messenger as Tim makes a half-assed job of dramatically leaving. He studies the man's face and body shape. Carefully filing it all away for later. After he's done making sure Tim makes it to a safehouse and has a set of bandages pulled out (because he's more likely to actually _use_ them if they're out of sterilization over wasting them).

Later, when he can track this new cockroach and remove it quietly. It's one less person out of a fucking ocean of people to destroy Tim, but that's just how things work sometimes. Jason shrugs mentally to himself and rolls to his feet. Putting the messenger aside for the moment and making a much better exit off the roof as he follows the moving shadow ahead of him.


	24. 1 Sentence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One sentence prompt responses of the JayTim flavoring.

_kaitouhime1412 asked: Sith Jason trying to make Tim his apprentice._

"I won’t be your apprentice," Tim grits out to the Sith Lord with his mesmerizing eyes and addicting touch that his body scream for more of, "I won’t become a killer for you."

.

.

_kaitouhime1412 asked: How do you think Roy and Kory would react if Jason brought Tim into their team?_

"You sure he’s legal," Roy asks like he has any room to speak as Kory tries to do something Jason can’t define to Tim’s hair that makes him go limp and pliant under her fingers.

.

.

_kaitouhime1412 asked: Jason finding Tim smoking? (It was because of Jay too)_

Jason’s grin is broad as he reels Tim in by the back of his neck, his cigarette tinted scent so much better than the cancer sticks alone, “You miss me that much, baby?”

.

.

_ephemeraltea asked: JayTim and emergency makeout session._

"You-" Tim’s too furious to continue when the closet door slams shut behind them, and focuses on using biting kisses on Jason’s infuriating mouth to shut him up instead.


	25. Noir

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> JayTim in a noir film was prompted. I'll admit my understanding of the noir genre is shaky, so my mind went to the hot dame walking into the down and out detective's office cliche.

Gotham isn't an easy city to live in. She's dark and vicious, and liable to eat unwary men alive without a second's notice. Hell, she's liable to eat even men who know her and are very careful of her nastiness. She's a dark collection of buildings and polluted water, her citizens every bit as rotten and dark as she. Just as liable to ignore you as stick a knife in your back.

There isn't another city like her in the world, and Jason Todd has traveled that world extensively so he knows what he's talking about. Gotham is harsh, ugly, and nearly unhabitable at times, but she's home for him. It's why his feet turned him back to the city time and time again. No matter how far he wandered, how many better places he lived in, or better people he found.

Gotham is it for him, no matter how harsh or ugly she got for him.

Even in the deepest, darkness of Gotham a few gems can turn up though. Jason's reminded of this when a pretty looking thing walks into his office one morning. 

The building isn't easy to find, and the office is unmarked. Jason doesn't advertise at all despite Kori's insistence that he should. People still manage to find him. Either by word of mouth or sheer luck, it doesn't matter so long as he always has a good flow of clients willing to pay him for his particular services.

The pretty thing is young and familiar looking with fine china eyes, and black hair that's been allowed to grow carelessly long. His fine boned face is pale and tired looking, but almost as familiar to Jason as the back of his eyelids. Every Gothamite worth their salt knew the faces of every member of the Wayne family along with their twisted stories of tragedy that made them Gotham's true royalty.

"Have a seat, Mr. Drake," Jason graciously offers and pointedly doesn't stand up from his slouch behind his battered desk. Just because Timothy Drake is one of Gotham's unquestioned elite doesn't mean he has to afford the man any more courtesy than he affords anyone else. Pretty face or not. "Tell me what I can do for you."

Drake doesn't seem the slightest bit perturbed by his lack of manners or even the shabby state of his affairs. He sits in the creaky, wobbly chair that Jason stole from Roy's place like it's nothing. He places his hands on the edge of the desk without hesitation even after he notices the suspicious stain that even Jason has given a hairy eyeball to on occasion.

"I'm looking to hire you, Mr. Hood," Drake says and his voice is low and every bit as pretty as his face. "To find someone for me."

Jason doesn't normally take on anything that will lead to him being on the side of the upper crust. He usually lets them talk it all out before showing them the door, but he can feel that resolve wavering under bright blue eyes. Jason really wants to see more of them, and that's effecting his usually firm stance. 

"Interesting as that may be, Mr. Drake, I'm not really in the business of tracking down flighty lovers or debtors," Jason drawls and almost smiles at the flash of anger that draws from the other man. A flash that lights up his eyes and eases some of the weariness in his face.

"That is not what I am here for," Drake says, and his voice is tight now, but still even and low. Jason wonders how much it'd take to get the man to yell. Or even how little it'd take to make him scream. "I want you to find Bruce Wayne."

All thoughts, lascivious or otherwise, drop from Jason's mind in an instant as he sits up straight in his chair. Drake has his interest in more than one way now. "Last I checked he was six feet under."

"The coffin's empty, we never found his body," Drake says and he fixes Jason with an oddly intent look that makes him look older than he actually is. "What I have found are signs that he's still alive, but the rest of the family don't believe me when I bring it up. I need help finding out father, Mr. Hood. I'm prepared to pay whatever you feel you need. Will you help me?"

Jason studies the man in front of him. His picture pretty looks, the way his knuckles are going white from his desperate grip on the edge of the desk, and the determination making his eyes go even brighter than when he was angry. He can hear the groaning and complaints from Roy already, along with the aggressive remarks from Kori. He knows this is going to wind up biting him hard some way, some how.

He leans forward anyway when he says, "Tell me everything you know."

It just might be worth it in the end for the tiny, grateful smile he gets as Timothy Drake begins to talk.


	26. For Better or Worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for JayTim, and one of them suffering a mental illness. I couldn't decide which one.

Dick's given up asking him why he still goes. He doesn't even bother asking when he sees the still healing scratches on his arm, just gives him a sad look before changing the subject.

It's hard, going into the hospital every day. Signing the forms needed and emptying his pockets of anything that can be harmful, and after the last few months the doctors have decided that _everything_ is harmful. Then there's the waiting. Almost an hour this time though he's waited two on a few really bad occasions. Waiting for a doctor to come along and give him the same old tired briefing that he barely pays attention to anymore. He can recite it in his sleep most nights now.

Then there's the long walk through the halls and into the more secure wings of the hospital. The section that's only silent because of the sound proofing keeping the people behind each of the blank doors carefully locked up. He's given one last warning when they come to one particular door, and then the keys come out and he can go in.

The room is a blue so light it might as well be stark white. There's a bed bolted down to the floor in the corner of the room, with a cage of bars to keep anyone from trying to slip underneath to hide. A solid plastic urinal and sink are in the opposite corner. There's nothing else for the huddled lump of a man on the bed to to look at. Nothing else he can use to hurt himself.

"Hey," he walks up to the bed and sits down on it, ignoring the flinch the action gets him. He puts his hand on one bony shoulder because it's apparently a straightjacket kind of day. Maybe week going by the scabbed over scratches that line the face that turns up to look at him.

"Are you real?" He asks, and his cloudy eyes don't focus quite right. The drugs have been increased then, which means he's been especially violent and self destructive.

"Yes, I'm real," he says and feels his heart constrict at the blinding smile those words get him. It's a smile that drops years and the fading scars from that face and shows him the man that he fell in love with so long ago. "How've you been doing?"

Dick used to ask why he still went. When the days he spend holding a screaming and clawing man outnumber the days he spends curled up with someone he once knew and doing nothing more than talking. Dick used to ask, but not anymore.


	27. Armorkini

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for Tim (or fem!Tim) getting a suit that looks like a swimsuit.

Jason tries, he tries real damn hard, but the words explode out of his mouth the second they're safely on the rooftops again. "What the fuck is that?" 

"What?" Timmy asks with a roll of eyes that he can see because she refuses to wear the standard lenses that comes with their masks. Bitching about how they're too close and crush her eyelashes, and then bitching about how the ones that don't make her look bug eyed.

"That!" Jason exclaims and waves his hand at her in a way that he thinks should perfectly describe what he's trying to say.

"The suit?" Timmy asks, all bored and nonchalant as she props her fists onto one cocked hip. There's a smirk on her face that utterly fails to distract him from the fact that the pose with her new costume change are doing terrible, awful things to his blood pressure. "What, don't you like my summer line, Hood? It's the new fad for vigilante suits and armor."

"My, fucking ass it is!" Jason grits out from behind his mask. He simultaneously wants to bang his head against a wall and never ever take his eyes off of Timmy. "What armor? You're wearing a fucking metal _bikini_ and sandals! Are you trying to get your ass killed?"

Timmy tosses her long hair over one very bare shoulder and does a slow ballet turn that gives Jason a damn good view of her from behind. "You obviously don't understand fashion at all, Hood. What's a few bullet wounds against looking this good?"

Jason has nothing at all to say to that. He point blank _refuses_ to get into these strange ass discussions with her on fashion and the very real life or death matter of wearing good kevlar. How his replacement ever lived this long is a total mystery to him some days. Timmy begins to walk away and Jason's momentarily distracted by just _watching_ her move. Right up until he realizes she's planning on continuing her patrol.

"Oh, hell no!" Jason takes off after her as she swings away. Mentally preparing himself for a long night of covering her ass literally and figuratively. "Dammit, Red, at least put on a pair of proper boots!"


	28. Called In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for Roy giving Jason a hard time over giving into Tim's pretty face so much.

Jason gets off the phone with an appropriate sounding bit of sass and then stands there for one whole minute just _looking_ at it. Roy crosses his arms and leans up against a crumbling brick wall and waits for it.

"Fuck," Jason bites out, low and stunned like he's surprised. An entire soap opera of emotion rolls across his face then. Some emotions even getting callbacks, before Jason settles on pissy anger. "Fuck!"

Roy waits for the cheap burner cellphone to shatter against the wall before saying anything. "You are so fucking whipped."

"Shut the fuck up, Roy!" Jason growls but his hands don't reach for his guns so Roy's safe for the moment.

"Hell no, this is ridiculous, man," Roy grins his best assholish smile as Jason starts to pace the condemned building they're holing up in. "This is what? The fourth --no, _fifth_ \-- time this month you've dropped everything and gone running at the pretty bird's call?"

"I'd offer to put a few more holes in your head Roy, but your mouth's so big I'm afraid I'd create a black hole on accident," Jason snarls but there's a petulance to it that looks better on four-year-olds than a grown man.

"Don't get me wrong," Roy goes on, ignoring Jason's continued listing a bodily harm he's going to do to Roy. "I'm all for making a face that pretty smile, but you're going beyond being just a sucker for it. You're entering dangerous territory here, and as your dear and most concerned friend," Jason snorts so violently he probably almost bursts something. "As your _friend_ it's my duty to inform you that you are full on _pining_."

"I am not pining!" Jason stops moving and shouts the phrase loud enough that it echoes through the building. His hands curling into a pistol grip and getting dangerously close to his holsters. 

"What are you shouting about?" Kori comes on from the back where she's been admiring something Roy hadn't paid attention too. She's frowning but it's slight enough to show she's not annoyed. Yet. 

"We're going to see Tim," Roy says before Jason can start in on whatever elaborate plan he's been planning to sell her on the second Tim called. 

"It's about time," Kori smiles and graciously ignores the brick Jason lobs at Roy's head. "Jason has been getting sad, it's good we will get to see him and stop it from getting worse." 

"I'm not-!" Jason starts but stops when Kori tilts her head slightly, her eyes gleaming just a bit more than usual as she makes a show out of waiting for him to finish that sentence. Jason makes a small, strangled noise before walking away from them both. "I hate you all so much." 

"He is lying," Kori says when Jason's gone. 

"Yep," Roy agrees with a grin. "You call Tim this time, or is this an actual emergency?" 

"It cannot be both?" Kori asks as she turns to head back out to the back. To do something. Probably make the overgrown yard look far more appealing than it actually is. "Inform me when we are leaving." 


	29. Drift Compatible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for drift compatibility.

"No fucking way," Jason sneers down at the small, painfully pale kid they've stuck him with. He's thin and lanky in a way that's only half to do with the fact the kid has at least three good growth spurts left in him. Pale blue eyes peer up at him from behind a shaggy cut of bangs, and give absolutely nothing of what the kid's feeling away. Jason tears his glare away and fixes it on Wayne. "I don't care what they fucking say, those numbers have to be wrong. No way in hell we're going to be drift compatible!"

"The numbers don't lie, Todd," Wayne says, and he's not even really looking at either of them anymore. Already reading the next reports coming in as he walks away from them. "You two will work perfectly together."

"My fucking ass," Jason mutters as the scarred man disappears. He blows out a groan on his next breath and turns back to the kid who's been silent the whole time. The kid's still staring at him, and it's more than slightly creepy. "The fuck is your name, even?"

"Timothy Drake," the kid says and Jason damn near takes off after Wayne to give him the proper bitching out the man deserves. 

"Jesus fucking Christ!" A rich kid! The fuck is Jason supposed to do with some snot nosed brat from a rich family? Didn't they have policies in place to keep fame seekers out of the program? Jason really doesn't have time for this bullshit. Robin is still being repaired, and Jason's got an actual drift partner to harass out of the infirmary. Damn Dick and his need to show off for pretty redheads anyway. "Just stay the fuck out of my way, kid."

"I won't be a problem at all," Drake says, words low and almost lost as Jason storms off. They bother Jason, but he shoves them aside for the moment. He's got bigger problems to worry about.


	30. Pool Chicken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for Jason teasing Tim about his height and holding him on his shoulders.

"Jay!" Tim yells as he's picked up. He doesn't fight it because Jason will have no regret in dropping him on his head. "Put me down!"

"No, our honor is on the line here," Jason grunts as he arranges Tim easily. Not stopping until Tim's perched uncomfortably on his shoulders. Hands clenching a little too tight to be comfortable in his wet hair. "Kori and Roy have to go down."

"Bring it!" Roy yells from the pool where the two red heads are currently reigning supreme in the game of chicken. Kori easily unseating any opponent while Roy does a good job keeping his feet under her fighting feats.

"And why do I have to fight Kori?" Tim grumbles as Jason turns toward the pool. He doesn't let go of his hair. Keeping a tight grip and pulling hard enough to make him wince. "I offered to carry you but you said no."

"Of course I said no," Jason tries to jerk his head out of Tim's grip but fails with a satisfying grunt. "You want to drown?"

"I'm not that short!" Tim hisses as Jason steps down into the pool and Roy starts making his way to them. Grinning madly while Kori smiles. Friendly and blood thirsty all at once.

"Yeah you are, babe," Jason says with a snort. "You know Alfred would give me that look of his if I let you drown. So stop trying to argue with me on this. We have a battle to win!"

"I hate you so much," Tim groans as Kori gets in touching range and reaches out for him.


	31. Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt asked for Tim to be seriously wounded.

"Jesus fuck," Jason breaths out on a whisper. He vaults a twisted barrier if rebar and half skids, half falls down the still shifting slope of rubble. His hands burn where the materials been ripped away but it doesn't matter.

He comes down at an angle. Concrete and brick tumbling down in front of him in a crashing slide that he tries his damnedest to direct away from the too still ball of red. His boots hit the ground and Jason's scrambling fast. Running to Tim because the collapsed building is groaning still and debris is starting to cover him as the pile tips way too precariously for comfort.

"Come on, come on!" Tim's a heavy weight and sticks worryingly when he lifts him, but Jason's out of time to worry about it. He can feel the landslide hovering over them as he slings Tim over one shoulder and books it.

The piles gives with a deafening roar as the rest of the building collapses in on itself. Small and large rocks clip Jason before he sprint to an alley and is shielded on both sides by much sturdier buildings. A cloud of dust, kicked up by the implosion, makes it hard to see even with the lenses down on his mask. He stumbles forward toward the other end where it's clearer before setting Tim down.

He's boneless and slumps immediately without Jason's hand to hold him up. Jason carefully pushes him up, one hand pressed to his chest as the other tugs the now tattered cape away. He hisses at what he sees, "Fucking hell, baby bird."

Tim's chest is a mess. The armor cracked and splintered outward from a metal bar that looks like it's coming all the way through from his back. Blood drops out sluggishly. Thick and red but mostly stopped by the armor pressed into the wound. Which isn't doing anything to address the internal bleeding he has to be going through.

"God fucking-!" Jason lost his earpiece and that ought to be enough to get help on its way, but not enough to get the gear they're going to need. He fumbles with Tim's cowl. Trying to push it back with blood slick fingers. Just enough to get to his ear and pull the piece out.

"O, this is Hood. I need-" there's nothing but static and clicking. Jason curses and flings it away before turning back to Tim.

The pouches give up only the most basic of first aid stuff. Jason rips apart every gauze pad he has and stuffs them into the wound. Carefully not shifting the rod or armor too much as he packs the entry and exit wounds. There's gauze wrap too but not enough to wrap around Tim's chest. Jason rips it up instead and packs it all in. Ignoring the way the pristine white of it all turns a deep red.

Tim doesn't move at all. Doesn't make a single noise as Jason jostles him around aside from his labored breathing. The cowl is off center and bunched up oddly on his face. Jason reaches out and fixes it when he's done before putting his hand back on the gauze.

"Stay with me you little freak," Jason sits against the alley and pulls Tim into his lap. Pressing light but firmly and listening to way Tim's breathing is startling to rattle in his chest. "Don't you fucking dare go into the light or I'll have to beat your stupid ass."

Jason waits for help that he prays is coming and mutters threats into Tim's unhearing ears.


	32. Power

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for a power AU.

Jason coughs and hacks until he spits up a nasty looking blood cot. It's easier to breathe afterwards, but he's going to be coughing up blood for a few hours at the least. "I hate it when my lungs get perforated."

"Disgusting," a tiny blonde woman says as she toes the blood clot with a shiny looking boot. She frowns at the blood that gets left behind and the boots shimmer. Shifting into insanely delicate looking sandals and the blood disappears with it. "I'd think that being immortal would come with more benefits than that."

"I get plenty of benefits, baby," Jason reaches out and grabs one delicate wrist. Pulling the shifter he's been partnered with for this mission into an elaborate spin. When he ends he's got a slight, dark haired man in a business suit pressed tightly against his chest. Jason doesn't flinch away like little Red Robin no doubt intended. "The question is, do you want to share them with me when this is over?"

Pale blue eyes narrow at him pissily before the very male hands shove him back. Jason bites down hard on another round of coughing as Red Robin shifts into an older looking business man with steely green eyes. "I don't think so, Red Hood. You haven't done much to impress me with these supposed benefits."

"Mission's just begun, babe," Jason darts back in and runs his fingers down a face gone soft with artificial age before continuing to their next objective. "I think I got plenty of time to fix that."

Jason grins even wider when he hears the word, "Maybe," muttered behind him too low for it to have been meant to be heard. This mission is going to be the best he's had in a good long while. Especially if he can get little Red to loosen up and play with him a little.


	33. Seconds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for Tim being crazy and Jason taking care of him while keeping him hidden. Tim scratching at the door and screaming when Jason's gone, and Jason occasionally lashing out in Pit rage.

He's had to replace the door twice now. The first one had padding on it, but that didn't do one damn bit of good. Tim had ripped right through it in an hour flat and gone after the wood underneath with a single minded intensity that still chills Jason to think about. It took him two hours to fish out every single splinter from under the ruins of his nails when he came back and found the little bird on the floor. Hoarse from screaming and fingers a bloody mess.

The second door had been metal and lasted much longer. Jason still came back to a bloodied mess, but at least with the metal he wasn't fishing splinters out in the too dimly lit room that Tim refuses to leave for all that he wants out when Jason's gone.

Tim doesn't leave the room when Jason's around. When he's in the safehouse or up on the roof. The man stays in the room, perfectly content with life in general. It's only when Jason needs to leave --to run a patrol or leave another false trail for everyone else to follow-- that he becomes agitated. 

It starts even before Jason starts to get ready. Some sort of freaky ass sense that Tim has tells him that Jason's going and that's when he starts to babble. The only words he's spoken since they found him broken and too far gone to tell them what happened. The words don't make sense, and sometimes Jason's convinced they aren't even words at all, but they filter through the house. Reaching Jason where ever he is.

Jason can ignore it for as long as he can, and, if he's quick enough, he can get out before it gets worse.

_If._

If Jason's not quick enough that's when the laughing starts. Low and harsh at first, but it grows quickly. Getting louder and more high pitched as Jason grits his teeth and shoves his fists over his ears. Trying to ignore how insane and utterly _delighted_ it all sounds. How it sounds just like the laugh that haunts the dreams he tries so damn hard to forget. Mimicking the pitch and tone perfectly enough that Jason can't help it sometimes.

Can't help storming into the room and shutting that laugh off with his fist. And that's all it takes. All that's needed to make Tim shut the fuck up. One punch that leaves his lips split and teeth bloody as he grins contentedly up at Jason.

It makes sense --Jason always thinks later when he's miles away and the Pit isn't so close to the surface-- because Tim has always been a manipulative little fuck, and there's nothing better than guilt to make sure Jason comes back. Nothing better than the sight of dried blood on his knuckles to make him want to turn right back around and _fix_ his mistake.

It's a small drop of intelligence in the bag of absolute bugfuck crazy Tim's become, but it's enough to have made him interfere when Arkham started getting tossed around as a possibility. Why the fuck anyone would ever consider Arkham mystifies him. Arkham isn't a place fit to fix anyone, it's just a storage center that _breeds_ insanity in people. Jason knows, his own stint in there had come at it's own price.

Eventually the metal door will start to wear out. Grooves will start to take hold and then Jason's going to be picking out metal splinters from Tim's raw fingers. But that's later, and Jason still has hope that this can be fixed as he leaves a bit of Tim's hair in an old safehouse to be found. Tossing a few used clothes around and making it look like the man's been squatting there for a few days.

It's enough to buy him a few more days to figure this shit out, and Jason's learned the value in counting by seconds. Learned not to trust in minutes or hours when Tim seems to only live fully from one fleeting second to the next. One minute past is gone and never to be retrieved, and a minute in the future is a far off distant event that may never come.

Jason counts the seconds as he flies back across the city to his safehouse. He'll count them as he walks up to Tim's room and opens the unlocked door. They'll slide past in a waterfall as he cleans and bandages the newly bloody fingers. And, maybe if he's lucky, they'll pause for just a little bit as Tim looks at him with something close to sanity for just a fraction of one second.

It's not much, and it's exhausting, but Jason's not going to give it up just yet.


	34. As The World Falls Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An idea circulated on Tumblr and was prompted to me by Kaitouhime. JayTim slow dancing as the world ends. One singing quietly to the other. The song is the title as sung by David Bowie.

"Jay, what?" Tim protests as Jason pulls on his arm. Turning him slow enough that Tim doesn't fall over from his utter exhaustion. Sleep is a distant memory that doesn't even matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore. Not against the blood red light streaking across the skies. 

Unstoppable death and destruction. Something they've only now learned is inevitable as the world dies.

"Shhh," Jason looks old and worn beyond his years. His eyes every bit as tired as Tim feels as he pulls Tim in closer than he's ever been to Red Hood before without a knife being pressed somewhere vital. Jason's hands are gentle and almost reverent as he arranges Tim into a familiar pose that leaves him dumbfounded.

"Really?" Tim wants to laugh as Jason slowly moves him through a very basic box step. Swaying Tim in time to some music that only he can hear. He wants to laugh but knows that will only lead to tears and scream. Things that Tim just doesn't have the energy to indulge in anymore.

"Really," Jason says as he starts to turn them. Pulling Tim in close and Tim moves automatically. Feet keeping step even as he tries and fails to find any outrage. "Let me have this, Red. Just let me."

Jason's voice is low and pleading and Tim just doesn't have it in him to fight anymore. Not over anything important, and not over something as inconsequential as this. Tim sighs as they turn again and relaxes. Closes his eyes and lets his head rest on Jason's shoulder. Tucks his face up against his neck as Jason starts to hum the bars of a song that Tim can almost recognize. It's comforting in a way that standing around and staring at their death wasn't.

"I'll paint you mornings of gold. I'll spin you Valentine evenings," Jason quietly sings, and Tim can feel the man turn his head so his lips are pressing against Tim's ears. His voice low and achingly sweet as the words go straight down Tim's spine. 

There's a world of regret and sadness in them that make Tim's chest ache as he recognizes the lost chance that he had, that they both had. The fragile connection that had been too new and precious for either of them to trust with anything more than the label of mutual ally. "Though we're strangers 'til now, we're choosing the path between the stars."

Tim's grip on Jason goes tight and he clenches his eyes shut against the grief that wants out. Lights burst behind his closed lids. Red and all consuming even as Jason clutches back just as tight. His breath stolen even as he chokes out one last line, "I'll leave my love between the stars."

Tim gasps and the last thing he knows is Jason's arms holding him close and tight.


	35. Similarities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt was for these two and X-Men. I'm ignoring Amalgam at the moment.

"Damian is Daken," Tim announces and Jason doesn't look up from the board he's wiring up, but he does arch a questioning eyebrow. "Daken," Tim repeats from the couch. "Wolverine's spoiled princess of a son."

"Ok," Jason says as he catches the drift of Tim's sleep deprived brain. Doesn't mean he gets it, but he can sort of follow it now. "And this matters, why?"

"Because it makes sense," Tim rolls and Jason can hear the crinkling of the newspaper that he'd insisted he had to read before he could go to sleep. "I mean, Bruce is Logan, obviously. Just with less clawing and killing. You're Jubilee, the street rat, and I'm Kitty, the smart one. So that makes Damian the only genetic son, Daken."

"Uh, huh," Jason doesn't even try to pretend he knows what Tim's talking about as he finishes soldering the last circuit in. Comics had never really been his thing. "What about Dick and Cass?"

"Cass is X-23, obviously," Jason can see Tim's hands waving over the back of the couch when he stands up and walks over. "And Dick is Gambit."

Jason doesn't know much about comics, but what he does know is enough. "How does that work out? I didn't think Gambit was part of Wolverine's family."

"He's not," Tim's frowning when Jason leans over the couch to look down at him. He blinks rapidly before shaking his head hard. Sitting up to poke at Jason's chest. "That's not the point! Damian is Daken. That's the point I'm making here."

"Uh huh," Jason nabs Tim's hands and pulls hard. Tim comes up easily and slumps against Jason's chest with a thump. "I think it's time for you to go to be, babe."

"You too," Tim mumbles as Jason picks him up just enough to move him. Going lax and making Jason do all the work as he stumbles to their room. "Can't sleep alone."

"Yes you can," Jason snorts as he drops the shorter man on the bed and he immediately curls up around one of the pillows. "You do it all the time."

"Hm, I can, yes. Just don't want to," one tired blue eye watches as Jason shucks off his shirt and trades his jeans for a pair of sinfully soft sleeping pants. 

"That's almost romantic, Timmy," Jason says as he crawls over him and collapses on the other side of the bed. Grunting when Tim rolls and shoves his head against Jason's neck. "Might want to get some more sleep, you're getting dangerously close to _talking_."

"Fuck you," Tim's says, muffled and getting indistinct as he drops off. "Just remember what I said, Daken. Damian. Mohawk."

Jason laughs and closes his eyes. Letting the conversation go, because he knows Tim. The man isn't likely to remember it in the morning, or --if he did-- wasn't going to admit to it. It was always best to just let these late morning ramblings go.


	36. Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for priest!Jason, alterboy!Tim, and a possession. I"m not very comfortable with the alter boy power dynamics so I made Tim an acolyte.

It just about figures in with the rest of Jason's life when Tim gets possessed just outside the fragile boundaries of the church yard.

"Son of a bitch," Jason swears as the brand new statues of the Mother Mary and her infant son start weeping blood as Tim's eyes roll back into his head. The small part of him not screaming in horror distantly notes that it's going to be a chore cleaning them later. Especially if he has to do it alone because some demonic filth kills Tim.

The acolyte is growling and the sound darkens the air of the church courtyard turning it foul and rancid. His body is unnaturally rigid as he rocks back and forth on his toes and heels, lips drawn back in a rictus grin that is sickeningly familiar to Jason.

"No," Jason breathes as the demon turns Tim's unfairly gorgeous face --twisted almost beyond recognition now-- on him and laughs.

"Why Father Todd!" The demon exclaims in a voice that is neither a man nor a child's, but is somewhere in between the two. Impossibly grating and high all at the same time. The unnatural voice winds around the words the demons says like a depraved lover's touch and it makes bile rise up in the back of Jason's throat. "What a _scandalous_ delight you have here. What have you been doing to this poor young man?" Tim's dark eyebrows waggle lecherously and Jason has to force himself to stop seeing the man who has been working so closely with him for the past year. To focus instead on the evil using his body as a puppet. "His head is filled with such _sinful_ lust. Why the poor thing can barely stand it! He's not like you, you see. He isn't able to reconcile such unnatural sins with his faith. There's just not enough hypocrisy in him to stand for it."

Jason doesn't rise to the bait, any of it. It's what the demon's looking for, what it wants, and giving in to it means it will win. Losing is not something that Jason likes to face when it comes to demons, especially not with Tim at risk. "You are in a sacred vessel demon, in the name of God I command you to leave it."

"Oh! It's a _sacred_ vessel now?" The demons cackles and turns too smoothly to be natural as Jason stalks forward. He has nothing more than his crucifix and faith, but that should be enough. Tim's still in his robes, and they've absorbed enough holy water from the morning that Jason can use it. "How sacred can it be with how often he thinks about being your _personal_ vessel. Spread out over that pretty little altar he takes so much care of and just waiting for you to fill him with the holy love of your dick!"

Jason grits out the first lines of the rites he prefers in Latin. He usually uses English for the exorcisms of most people, but Tim's smart. Terrifyingly so sometimes. He'll understand the words and know enough to repeat them wherever it is the demons has shoved him to. Demonic victims, from what Jason has gathered after the fact, are always conscious and very much aware of everything happening around them during the possession. It's one of the worst things the demon does when it violates people.

The demon's face ripples. Discomfort, irritation, pain. Tim's doing his part then, from the inside, fighting the possession even as Jason pries at it's hold. Jason nearly grins as he circles the demon. Getting behind it to press it closer to the boundary of the church, the invisible line of consecrated ground that can only help him.

"But you knew all about that, didn't you?" The demon rages as it finds itself caught. The whites of Tim's eyes turning red as bloody tears leak out. It's snarling now, no hint of the humor it started out with. It's losing it's hold faster that it expected and is lashing out desperately. "You've seen the way he looks at you, you know!" The demon whines as Jason raises his voice and firmly commands it to leave again. "Such a good little priest you are. Ignoring those disgusting looks and," the demons shrieks as Jason steps forward, crucifix out, and it's forced over onto consecrated ground.

Jason ignores it's words, ignores the harm he knows it's trying to cause in this last desperate stab. He doesn't stop his prayers and commands. Doesn't try to correct it or defend himself. That can come later, after the demon's gone and Tim's recovered.

"-satanam aliosque spiritus malignos, qui ad perditionem animarum pervagantur in mundo," the demon's wordless now, back arching sharply and it's hovering. It has to be, Jason just can't see with how long Tim's robes are. "Divina virtute in infernum detrude," Jason steps forward again and gets one arm in the small of his back, and presses his crucifix firmly to his chest. Right over Tim's heart as it shrieks louder. One long, endless cry that curls up into the sky and makes Jason's ears ring. "Amen."

The silence is deafening, and the immediate release of tension nearly makes Jason drop Tim. "Tim?" The air is clear again, and Jason drags them both further into the courtyard. Dropping to his knees next to the statues and easing Tim down to lay out on his back. Hands flying to check Tim over. His pulse is fast under Jason's fingers, his breathing quick and labored. 

"Come on, Tim, tell me you're alright," Jason wipes at the drying lines of blood on his face, revealing the paler than normal skin underneath. Tim's eyes are closed, stubbornly, because Jason can see the way his lips are growing thin. "You're awake, I know you are, Open your eyes and stop freaking me out here."

Slowly, Tim obeys, and Jason feels his breath leave him in a rush when he can look down into Tim's pale blue eyes. 

"Praise be to God," Jason breathes out and slumps down over the acolyte. Letting himself feel the exhaustion that always follows an exorcism. Even ones as easy as this. "Are you alright?"

"You-" Tim's voice is _wrecked_ and he coughs hard. Grimacing at the pain of it. His head turns weakly away and it's obvious that as tired as Jason is, Tim's feeling five times worse. "How can you stand to-?"

"Easily," Jason cuts off Tim's words because it doesn't matte what Tim's going to finish the sentence with. Jason curls his arm under Tim and grunts as he picks him up. Staggering to his feet and aiming his almost drunken stumble towards the back door of the church. Tim shifts and Jason can see his troubled expression in the corner of his eye. Demons like to deal in truth. Mixing it with lies so fluidly that it's hard to tell which is which, but the closer to truth they can get the better. Nothing flays people more expertly than all their secrets being laid out in the open. "There's good and evil in this world, Tim. You've just seen some of the worst of the evil."

There's a bench in the small hallway just inside the door that Tim brought in during his second month. Tim leans heavily against the wall when Jason sets him down on it. His face is expressionless now. The way it gets when he's dealing with grieving or upset parishioners. The face he used to give Jason all the time before the man thawed enough to start getting snarky and personal with him.

"Demons aren't the only evil in the world though," Jason carefully kneels down on the floor, keeping one hand on Tim even as the man tries to shy back and away. "There's a lot of hate and evil in people too, and even, I'm sorry to say, in the church."

"Father," Tim hisses out a protest, and he goes stiff even as his eyes go wide at the words that are very close to blasphemy, but fuck that. Jason's seen enough, been around long enough that he's secure in his position, in his faith.

"It's true. The Bible is the word of God, Timothy, but it's the Word as interpreted by mankind. And we're kind of shitty at listening and comprehending," Jason grins at the snort that gets him. "There's so much in that book that just won't fly in today's world, and no one expects them to be allowed. We don't stone a woman who doesn't scream loud enough while being raped, we don't make allowances for people to be sold into slavery anymore, and we don't kill kids who talk back to their parents. If you didn't already know that I don't view every word of the Bible as the absolute truth that must be followed," Jason shakes his head and gets both his hands on Tim who isn't pulling away as much anymore. "Well, I don't know who the hell you've been talking to for the last year, but they sure as fuck weren't me."

Tim laughs and it's a drawn out noise that's not entirely good but better than before. "Point," Tim slumps down and his eyes slide shut. "Can we do the whole questioning faith and rearranging my outlook on life thing later though. I'm really tired right now."

"Sure," Jason eases back a bit but doesn't move away entirely. How much truth the demon spoke is debatable, but if even a smidgen of it is true? Jason reaches up and fits his hand around Tim's cheek, lets his thumb stroke over his lips that part slightly. "Just don't want you thinking the wrong thing about what that demon fucker did, alright?"

Tim swallows but nods slowly. "Alright." 

"Good," Jason gets up and picks Tim back up. Not minding the weight one bit now, or the way Tim seems to curl a little in his arms. "Lets get you into a bed then. We'll talk more later."

Tim hums in agreement, already half asleep as Jason walks further into the cool interior of the church.


	37. Stray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Had a request for Robin flirting up Stray and getting scratched for it. Which does nothing to deter Jason Todd at all.

Jason's been looking forward to this since B confirmed the rumors that Catwoman has her own sidekick now. He slips away as B does his fighting-flirting Bat dance with Selina. Neither notices as they continue to all but climb each other on the roof. It's kind of a relief to have an excuse not to have to watch them do this. It was interesting the first time, but then it got awkward.

Jason drops into the penthouse they chased Catwoman out of earlier and is not the least bit surprised at the small figure picking through the open safe. "Hey."

The boy --Kitten, Catboy, Catlad, he's not sure which of the names used on the street the kid goes by-- reacts textbook perfectly. The glittering necklace he's holding disappears --and not back into the safe-- and he's up on his feet facing Jason in a matter of seconds. Wide eyes blink rapidly behind the same yellow lenses and full head cowl that Selina prefers, the lenses are large enough that Jason can see the boy's eyebrows furrow with his frown as he shoots a look at the open window behind Jason.

"They're doing that thing they do up on the roof," Jason waves lazily back and up as he moves into the room. Super casual as he makes sure to block off that exit and the other two he's identified as he gets closer to observe the new kid. "It'll be a while. I don't know about you but I don't want to have to watch any of that. You haven't been with Catwoman long enough, but they can get pretty," Jason chews a few words over before shrugging, "pornographic."

The kid makes a choked off sound, but it's a smile that he's biting back when Jason looks. "Trust me, Robin, I am well aware how those two can get."

The voice is light, the tone wry, and Jason smiles as he takes another step closer. "Yeah? Well, thought I'd check just to be sure you didn't walk in on anything that'd scar you," Jason files the information away for later. B would like to know that the kid's been around longer than he thought originally. "So, you got a name?"

Jason's close enough to get more detail, and he ups the age on the kid. He'd taken the boy's small stature as an indication of his youth, but this close he can see the lack of youth in his face. There's not as much roundness in it, and he's pretty sure there's an adams apple under the high neck of his leather suit. Something close to Selina's curvy catsuit, but fitted to what Jason's now seeing is a surprising bit of muscle.

"I prefer Stray," the boy says as he straightens up fully and crosses his arms over his chest. Stray cocks his head and raises one eyebrow, all trace of the slight nervousness gone now. He's got that cocky swagger that Selina gets when she's confronted, and Jason grins at it. "And I'm perfectly capable of _looking away_ from any rooftop shenanigans."

Shenanigans, heh. Stray puts the kind of disdained spin on that one word that Alfred puts in his own words when he Does Not Approve of something. Jason feels his grin stretch even wider. He likes Stray, and he's getting the feeling --with every word they exchange-- that he's going to _really_ like him in a short amount of time. "Hey, don't knock it. They might not be so much fun to watch," Jason swaggers forward until he's in Stray's space. The boy goes tense, but his eyes stay cool and locked on Jason. He twitches a little when Jason dares to reach out for his left arm. It's slim but solid muscle when Jason squeezes a little, and modulates his grin to something that tends to make people go a little pink in the face when he aims it at them. "But it's actually the height of romance in Gotham. I can show you, if you want?"

Stray stops blinking, and sort of just stares. It's kind of a creepy scare and Jason worries a bit that he's broken the new cat before the boy shakes himself and he frowns again. "What?" 

The tone on that is flat and disbelieving. It almost stings a bit, but Jason just keeps smiling. He's still working out how people seem to segue smoothly into pick up lines. Bruce is an expert at it when it doesn't matter, and Dick doesn't do too bad on his own either. Jason sort of just opens his mouth and it plops right out. Awkward and strange as hell, but he's found that if he keeps pushing forward --instead of running away to hide like he wants to-- he can usually recover well enough.

Jason lets go of Stray's arm and skims his hand upward. Pressing just hard enough to be felt through the material and bit of armor he finds. "I'm asking if you'd like to get away from this crime scene and talk a little more, away from the mentors, cutie."

There's a bit of pink spilling down from under the line of the cowl that only leaves Stray's lower face free. Jason traces the edge of the cowl with his thumb adn Stray seems to stop breathing. Jason really wants to pull that cowl back and get a good look at his face, but that's something for the fourth date.

"You-" Stray jerks back a little but he can't really go very far without tripping over the remains of the security system one of them dismantled and left in a messy pile on the floor. He almost does trip actually, but his balance is great and he recovers before Jason can get a hand around his lower back to steady him. Jason does it anyway and gets a _wonderful_ pissy look for it. "What are you _doing_?"

"Trying to ask a cute little kitten out on a date," Jason grins as he steps back and pulls Stray with him. Getting them both out of the tripping hazard's range. He gets his other hand back up and on Stray's face, itching to take the gauntlet off. "If you want, I could slap some cuffs on you and escort you to jail a couple times instead. I mean it's worked for Batman and Catwoman, but I was kinda hoping I could do this without all the incarceration and viol-"

Stray _hisses_ and Jason's got four lines of fire running down his face before he can even figure out the boy's twisting away from him. "Fuck! Wait!"

Stray's gone in a split second. Moving fast, and that shouldn't surprise Jason as much as it does. Jason doesn't bother giving chase past the window when he looks out and can't find any trace of the cat-burglar. He sighs and steps back to look at a nearby mirror. The scratches are faint, barely there raised welts from the claws he'd seen on Stray's gloves and ignored. They sting a bit but the skin isn't broken at least.

"You have a lot to learn, kiddo," Selina oozes through the window and sounds every bit like the cat that got the canary, the cream, and the couple thousand dollar diamond encrusted necklace. 

"Your kid's kinda flighty," Jason says with a grin when he turns to see her lounging in the window. Mostly out of it, and giving the impression she's only paused for the moment. "Cute, but easy to spook."

"Oh, you just have no idea," Selina smirks and nearly purrs as she shifts. Muscles bunching in preparation for running. "I'll catch up to my kitten and see if I can smooth his fur back down. You, need to see about coming up with some better moves."

Selina's gone just as fast as Stray, and Jason swings out of the window. Going up to the roof where B's sulking. The way he always does when an encounter with Catwoman doesn't go how he'd planned. Jason can _feel_ the black glare that hits the marked side of his face when he climbs up. "Really."

"Shut up. You have zero right to say _anything_ ," and B stays quiet because, for once, Jason's right. "The kid is cute as hell, B."

"And friendly," Bruce says, dry like Alfred when he's pointing out obvious flaws in plans.

"Yeah," Jason flicks the heavy cape away to expose the shredded left side of Batman's armor that's going to be replaced before they can continue patrol. "Just like his mama."

Bruce doesn't sigh, but Jason can hear it anyway in the silent five seconds the older man just stands there. Probably looking out into the distance and wondering why his life is the way it is. Jason lets him have that moment and stretches a bit, because if he knows B-

Batman launches himself off the roof and into the night with an amount of violence that really isn't needed. Jason takes off after him, determined to try and keep up as B burns off his frustration. The wind makes his cheek sting a bit more though, and Jason's grinning as he chases after Batman. Already looking forward to the next time he gets to meet Gotham's newest cat-burglar.


	38. Not The Damsel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt for a crime lord hearing rumors of Red Robin being Hood's boyfriend and kidnapping him to make Hood back off.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing?" Jason growls after the last gangbanger gets the bad side of his boot to their head. The kid goes down with a whimper leaving Jason free to stalk over to where Red Robin is currently tied to a chair.

A fucking metal, folding chair. The kind that are so flimsy people have to _work_ at not breaking them by breathing wrong.

Tim, from what little of his face Jason can see, is bored and very unimpressed as he crosses his legs. Showily, and slowly enough to show off the fact he slipped those ropes a long time ago. "Oh Hood, how nice of you to show up to save me."

Jason steps back, a good five feet and regards the younger man warily. The words coming out of Tim's mouth are some unholy combination of grade schooler so done with life forced to recite a script and a flaming camp queen lisp. "The hell?"

"How _could_ I _ever_ thank _you_ for _this_?" Tim slips out of the rest of the ropes and doesn't stumble despite the nasty looking punch to the head Oracle's cameras had caught knocking him out. Jason keeps backing up as Tim advances, wondering if the man has suffered brain damage. "My rugged knight in leather armor, mi amor, let me give you a _kiss_."

Shit. Jason grimaces and takes comfort in the fact that he's wearing his full face helmet because Tim's teeth fucking _glint_ when he hisses that last word. Little Red is _pissed_ and Jason's starting to get an idea why. 

"Hey, look, it's not my faul-" Jason raises his hands up passively and throws himself back as Tim shifts into a high kick that cleaves the air where his head just was. "Hey! Not my fucking fault these assholes buy into stereotypes!"

"I wouldn't expect any less from them," Tim grits out through his teeth as he presses his attack. Keeping Jason on the move with a barrage of punches and kicks. "I'm blaming _you_ for letting them think I'm your "little bitch"!"

That had been fucking funny and Jason's really glad his face isn't showing because he can't help the grin at the reminder of the very public incident. Not even when Tim manages to nail his bony elbow into his kidney. 

"How many times am I going to have to deal with this!?" Tim stops and throws his arms out to the warehouse of unconscious idiots. "I'm tired of having to bail myself out of _your_ blackmail situations! It doesn't matter how many of their jaws I break, they always expect me to be some helpless damsel in distress!"

Tim's yelling, actually yelling, and it's not something he does often or very much. Jason keeps his arms up defensively, even as Tim sucks in a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose hard. 

" _Fix_ this, Hood," Tim finally hisses out, all cold and icy as he turns around. His pissiness trailing after him like his cape. "Or I'll start telling the whole world _who_ takes _what_ up the ass."


	39. Street Brats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for Tim being a street kid with anger issues.

Tiny Tim was a little ball of fire and fury that'd break the face of anyone who ever dared call him Tiny Tim to his face. Jason, therefore, makes it a point to call the kid that as often as possible, because it's funny as fuck watching his face turn red as he tries to get a hit in on Jason.

"Jesus," Jason snickers as he shoves the younger boy away, sending him sprawling out on the dirty floor of the crack den they're holing up in for the night. "Grow a few feet and try that again, Timmy boy."

"Fuck you!" Tim's up and spitting, looking like he might take another swing before he settles a bit. That quick recovery right there is what's made Tim such a name on the streets. He can't overwhelm anyone by strength but he's a sneaky fuck who's a lot faster than people give him credit for. He's usually able to get a finishing blow in before anyone can even blink. "You're just a giant of a freak."

Jason has been putting on the inches lately. It's good because it gives them even more of an edge, but it's also been harder finding clothes that fits him. A problem, according to Tim, since winter is starting to set in. 

"Yeah? Well, my giant freakiness got us dinner," Jason throws the still warm bags down on the floor between them before folding himself up to sit down. He pulls out two cans of Zesti that were almost more trouble than they were worth, but the way Tim's eyes light up as he greedily snatches one will always tip Jason's decision toward getting them. "We got chicken something, and questionable beef."

"Chicken," Tim says after a thoughtful moment that Jason knows is his freakish brain calculating caloric intake or something and little to do with what he actually wants. Jason tosses one of the grease wrapped sandwiches towards him and rips open his own. Tim picks through the thing with a snort. "The chicken's pretty questionable too."

"Quit thinking about it so damn much," Jason says through a mouthful of food. He reaches into the second bag and pulls out two things of fries. They're still steaming as he dumps them into one big pile on the bag. They burn his tongue a bit when he stuffs a few in his mouth, but warm food is going to get harder to find as the weather turns colder and should be enjoyed now.

"I'm not!" Tim protests once he's swallowed and his mouth is clear. Tim eats quickly but neatly with the kind of manners that says a lot about the life the he doesn't talk about at all, and Jason could only guess at if he cared enough to try. What Tim came from is less important in the long run though. The most important thing is where Tim's trying to go after all. "It's good, surprisingly. Better than the hotdogs."

"Shut up, runt," Jason glares as he stuffs the rest of his burger into his mouth and swipes some more fries. He's still hungry, but it's too late to go out looking for more. He'll just have to spend more time in the morning trying to grift or picking pockets. "Chili dogs are fucking awesome."

"They're fucking disgusting," Tim says as he takes the rest of the fries Jason nudges towards him. His nose wrinkling at the memory of the last time they'd had them.

It's cute, how the curse words trip awkwardly off Tim's tongue still. When Jason first met Tim the boy had hardly talked, and never swore at all. Something that had only gotten him more attention than not at the beginning, before Jason had taken the even tinier boy aside and taught him how to blend in.

"They're good eating, you fucking twerp," Jason balls up their trash and throws it into a corner that's already filled with trash from the crack addicts that periodically infest the condemned building. They've got a good few days before they have to leave, for their own health because crack addicts are too damn unpredictable to be sleeping around, but the place is empty and better than being outside.

"For someone with no taste, maybe," Tim snarks back as he gets up and moves over to the best couch in the place. It's only a little torn up and doesn't smell as much like piss as the others do. He kicks his sneakers off and somehow manages to take up more than his fair share of it before Jason wanders over and kicks him back.

Tim sprawls right back out after Jason settles in, tangling their legs together and sitting on his feet. They're going to have to start looking for blankets or think about checking themselves into a juvenile home before it gets any colder. Tim hates them, and can usually manage to get his ass kicked out in under a week for fighting. So, that's probably out of the game plan.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Tiny Tim," Jason grins as he gets a vicious pinch and a sour look from Tim for that. "Just get some sleep, we got a lot to do in the morning."

"Fuck you," Tim scowls and turns so his face is almost in the back cushions. Kicking out a little just to be a brat.

Jason smirks and closes his eyes, getting as comfortable as he can with a couple of springs digging into his ass, and Tim's bony knees knocking into him. Tomorrow is going to be busy for them both.


	40. Kidnapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for Timothy Drake-Wayne getting kidnapped to blackmail Red Hood. Would've rolled it in with the other one but there is a difference in kidnapping Red Robin over Tim Drake.

Tim's face is a wreck. Bruised, scratched, and stained with drying blood as he slumps against a wall. Just a little too still for Jason to buy into the fact that it's anything but faked. His suit is torn and his shoes missing, and none of the thugs hanging around him are paying him the slightest bit of attention.

Anger licks through Jason despite the fact that he knows Tim's acting up to play to the public persona he has to keep. He looks worse than he actually is, and Jason's personally seen him with worse injuries. It still stings like nothing else to see some suicidal fuck kick lazily at Tim's sprawled out legs.

Jason pulls out his guns and clicks off the safety on them both. Out of respect for the little bird, he won't kill any of them, but he's damn well not going to be gentle on these fuckheads. No one can blame him for that, in fact, if he can get at some of the lights before moving in he's sure that Tim'd be more than happy to help him hurt every single one of them.


	41. Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for someone insulting Jason and Tim defending him without knowing Jason overhears it. Also, Damian is the kind of kid to push too far and not understand why that was not acceptable I think.

The insult doesn't even get the chance to fully leave Damian's mouth before Tim's lashing out. Hard and fast enough to clip the brat as he jumps back in surprise. Dick isn't around to stop him, as Tim spits out, "Don't! That's too far, Damian."

"Why?" Damian licks his lips and thumbs the area Tim's fist caught before he sneers at him. "It's true. Todd is a waste of flesh that should have stayed on the streets. Father is better off to never have picked him up."

They're alone in the Cave, and Tim's thankful for that. It means there's no one to stop him from putting the little brat in his place. He's sick and tired of dealing with the boy's insecurity and need to assert his superiority over everyone around him. "The same could be said of you, we all would have been better off throwing you back to Ra's. Especially since we've figured out you can't obey one simple little command."

Damian flinches like he's been struck. His shoulders going up defensively even as his fist curl for an offense Tim is not going to let him launch. There's fury, pained, and a deep seated desire to succeed in the blue eyes that glare at Tim. It's easy, seeing the boy now, to make allowances for him. To make excuses and want to give him another chance, but enough is enough. Tim isn't Dick, and he's never thought sparing the rod --metaphorically speaking-- is the best way to cure Damian of these bad habits of his.

"You can be as angry as you want, you can poke at any of us, insult us, deride us, but you need to understand that there are _lines_ that you do not cross," Tim doesn't get up or even look at the boy as he finishes typing up his report. Leaving his back open for an attack he knows is going to come sooner or later. "And when you cross them, there are consequences for it. Consequences that you will not like having to pay."

There's no sound or movement, but Tim dodges on instinct. Catching Damian by the back of his neck and slamming him painfully onto the ground. He pressed hard and flows out of the chair to crouch almost entirely on the boy's back. He struggles a bit, which is a mistake. He'd have an easier time getting out of his hold if he went limp, but Damian's pride refuses to allow him to listen to common sense. It's yet another flaw that needs to be worked out of him before it gets him killed. Tim will let Dick handle that one.

"I'm going to be perfectly clear here so that there's no misunderstanding between us," Tim reaches down to put some pressure on Damian's throat and the boy goes utterly still. Interesting. It's a bit of nonverbal signal that Tim learned when dealing with Ra's. Something used on the ninja in training to make a point. It's nice to see that the same cues have apparently been used on Damian. "I will write up a list of subjects that are not to be discussed or used as insults for each one of us. You will read and memorize this list, and _never_ touch any of those subjects. It will make your interactions with every much smoother, and may even endear you a bit more into the family because none of us are going away simply because you don't like us. Failure to comply with this list _will_ result in equal retaliation, because I know the subjects that are most harmful to you and I _will_ show the same regard to them that you show to others."

Tim lets the words sit there for a bit, to penetrate the boy's pride so that he can fully understand the threat and its possible consequences to him. Slowly, Tim lets his neck go and stands up. Backing away as Damian gets up. His face still and blank in a way that screams trouble, but Tim only gets a glare and a grudging nod before Damian storms off.

There will be retaliation for this. Tim knows that and expects that. Damian's pride will demand nothing less of him. Tim just hopes that the boy is smart enough to take Tim's threat seriously. The file is already written, Tim turns back to the computer and pulls it up. Sending it off to be printed so he can give the list to Damian.

"And how long have you been planning that?"

Jason's voice shouldn't be that much of a surprise to Tim. Even though he thought he was alone, and even though he's pretty sure that the security codes were changed recently to specifically deny the man access. "A while."

Jason snorts and wanders out of the shadows. He's in his version of civilians which means he probably bypassed the lockdown the same way they all do when Bruce get's a bug in his cowl. He went through Alfred. "No shit, I'm just surprised more violence wasn't involved. I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from smashing the spawn's face in."

"Damian responds too much to violence," Tim says with a shrug as he collects the papers and staples them together. "You need to use a little to get his attention, but too much is counter productive. I'm trying to _teach_ him, not punish him."

"Your restraint is admirable," Jason says, voice dry and skeptical as Tim turns to head back upstairs. He doesn't move to follow and Tim doesn't stop to ask what he needs in the Cave. There's cameras up, if it seems like it's something they need to know. He's near the top of the stairs when he hears Jason speak again. "Thanks, Red."

Tim smiles and says nothing back.


	42. Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for them to be old and complaining about the 'kids' they see.

"'Get off my roof!' Really?" Tim's arching an eyebrow behind his full face cowl. Jason can't see it, but he can _feel_ its presence all the same. "I hope you realize you are the old man all the cliches talk about now."

"I am not," Jason rebuts as he crosses his arms over his chest. Letting the sensors in the helmet he rarely takes off anymore do the scanning for him. The dots showing the flight of the two new punks playing around with masks and capes don't stop though. "I didn't bring my shotgun out this time, so your complaints are invalid."

"This time," Tim repeats back as he cocks his head. A report of a minor break in crackling across the line dedicated to the police band. It's in Cass' area though, and she's every bit as fast as ever and is already on it. "That clarifier worries me, because it makes me think there's been other times now. Other times that involved a shotgun."

"Maybe there were, maybe there weren't," Jason says with a smirk that he knows the other man can hear in his voice. Truth is there was an incident, just one, but he'd done it just for shits and giggles so it really doesn't count. "So shut your trap up about my age, unless you're willing to admit to your own advancing age."

Jason nods down to Tim's right knee which is slightly thicker only to those really observant people. The extra support isn't so much a good idea as it is a necessity these days after he landed on it wrong again last winter.

"And cede my territory to a couple of kids in tights and velour masks? I'd rather die first, Hood," Tim snorts and moves to the roof edge. Still graceful and deadly despite the encroaching years and compounding injuries. "Want to follow the brats home and make sure their parents know what their precious snowflakes have been up to?"

"Old age has made you mean," Jason says with a short bark of laughter as he follows Red Robin off the roof. The weightless swoop of jumping the same as it always has been, and enough to make him feel like he's twelve again. Wearing pixie boots with metal toes, and scale panties with enough armor to withstand almost anything.


	43. Future Hottie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for Robin!Jay meeting the boy of his dreams during a gunfight or hostage rescue.

Holy crap.

Jason watches as the thug gets a pretty good arch to his back before crashing down on the ground, out cold from one hit. A kick to be precise.

The man who delivered the kick straightens up and automatically smooths out the small wrinkles in the suit that looks as expensive as the ones Bruce wears in public. It's fitted --Jason's eyes wander and catch on several key points-- perfectly to his lean but well muscled form giving him the look of a business man who spends his time telephoning to work from the gym. Even with the long hair and sneakers that have to be reinforced.

"I hate time travel," the man turns absolutely insanely nice blue eyes on him and smiles. It's small and does several kind of painful things to Jason's chest area. "No need to worry about the time stream, Robin. It'll fix itself," the man's tiny smile blooms into something mean looking, "just as soon as I can track down that last thief and break his jaw. Maybe a few fingers too."

Jason's heart does a goddamn somersault as the man turns and stalks back into the smoking warehouse.

"Holy. Crap," Jason breaks out of his daze and scrambles to follow the time traveler. Determined to get a name to put to his gorgeous, ass kicking future husband.


	44. At Any Cost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was asked for super protective Jason, and that --of course-- means killer Jason to me.

Blood flies out and spatters across Jason's jacket and the lenses of the helmet. It settles in the corner of the right one, tinging everything pink. Jason draws back and slams his fist into the mother fucker's face again. The impact rattles up his arm and more blood flies out of his ruined nose as the man staggers back. Eyes rolling up In his head, but Jason only reaches out to grab the front of his shirt to keep him up. Not letting him fall even as the waste of space looses consciousness. Hitting him again and again and again. Not stopping until there's no more face and the fucker isn't moving.

At all.

Jason let's him go then, to drop like a rag doll on the dirty ground and focuses on breathing as he turns away. He's got a packet of wet-naps he stole from a diner that take care of the blood on the lenses and most of what's on his jacket. The gloves go in an inside pocket and Jason pulls on his back up pair before climbing back up to the roofline.

It takes him five minutes to backtrack and that's enough time to let the rest of the rage diminish. Red Robin is finishing up the patch job on his suit and grunts when Jason comes up behind him. "You find the shooter?"

"Not a trace," Jason lies as he fits his hand over the mended tear. It'll bruise like a bitch because fuckhead wasn't using a high enough caliber to really exploit the weakness in Tim's armor, but Jason doesn't care. He's still got the image of Tim going limp mid-jump in his head. A repeating loop of one of his worst nightmares. "Motherfucker's long gone."

Tim sighs and doesn't protest when Jason wraps his arm around him, pulling him in close. "Can't even trace the bullet, guess it was someone's lucky day."

"Yeah, yours," Jason rests his head on top of Tim's. The helmet keeps him from feeling the material of the cowl or smelling the scent of sweat and Gotham that permeates Tim, but the gesture calms the rest of the rage.

"It won't happen again," Tim says, his mind no doubt already working on armor upgrades.

"No, it won't," Jason agrees, his mind on the one asshole who won't be taking potshots at Tim anymore.

It takes them a while to get back to patrolling.


	45. Brunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for them raising a kid whose parents were killed in a gang fight. A son was specified but I forgot that part until after this was written. My mind will never stop associating Carrie Kelley or John Blake as the adoptive kids though.

Tim is quick to snap a picture using his cellphone. The fact that taking a picture is his first response doesn't surprise him, but it does say a lot about his suitability to be a father. He'd brought it up when Jason first came home with a tearful lump, a fistful of papers, and the dumbest look of buyer's remorse ever.

"Carrie, sweetie," Tim tucks the phone away and moves to stop his daughter from running face first into the wall again. She's giggling, the sound echoing under the Red Hood helmet she somehow managed to get a hold of. Tim's going to blame that on Jason and his inability to properly care for his gear. "How'd you get a hold of Papa's mask?"

"It's not Papa's!" The girl's shrill voice is muted since the speakers aren't even on. Tim doubts she can even see through the lenses properly as she latches onto him. The helmet bobbles in a way that's pretty funny to watch. " _I'm_ Red Hood!"

"I thought you were Robin?" Tim asks as he picks her up and surveys the damage. A side table is overturned with a small array of files spilled on the floor. The initial clatter that let him know all was not well. He's pretty sure that Carrie still has one of Damian's old capes somewhere in the disaster area that's her room.

"Noooo! I'm Red Hood, and I'm going to put my boot up the behinds of all the bad guys!" Carrie does an almost perfect imitation of the growl Jason does when he tells their daughter what he did at work every night before breaking down into giggles as Tim stops outside the open door of his room.

Jason's sprawled out on their bed. Unconscious and looking a little worse for the wear. Tim's a bit worried that he didn't hear the man coming in since it looks like Jason's left a trail of clothing and gear from the window to the bed. It answers where the helmet came from though.

"Looks like Papa's tired," Tim eases the helmet off of Carrie and carefully places it on the nearby dresser. Jason doesn't appear to be in pain or bleeding out so Tim hooks the door with a foot and gently closes it. "How about we let him sleep for a bit and then have brunch together? You can tell him all about how he's been fired then."

"Alright," Carrie blows some stray strands of red hair away and squirms a little in his arms as he walks them back down stairs. "Can we have ham sandwiches too?"

"Maybe, do you actually want ham or are you just wanting to go see Alfred?" Tim asks because the girl's obsession with the food is tricky. Sometimes she eats nothing else, and other times she uses the food as an excuse to get them all to the manor. Because Alfred makes a special ham sandwich that just can't be replicated by anyone else.

"No, I just want ham. With a pickle," Carrie shrugs and starts squirming harder when they're on the ground floor. Tim bends to put her down and she spills out of his arms with a hop that really should have landed her on her head, but Dick's been a _very_ attentive uncle. "And bread."

"Sandwiches come with bread," Tim says with a laugh as he watches the girl skip into the living room where he thought she was watching cartoons until the noise started up.

"Yeah but I want extra!" Carrie stops to declare. Hands on her hips as she makes her demands. "Because Red Hood really likes bread."

"Then we'll have bread with lunch," Tim says with a grin, and he's regretting not keeping his phone out to record this conversation a little. The in home security feeds are good, but the audio still needs tweaking in some places. Jason is going to die laughing when Tim tells him about this later. "I'll let you know when we can wake Papa up."

"Okay!" The word is yelled as Carrie bolts away to the television she only pays partial attention to most days. The majority of her attention almost always absorbed in the books that Alfred steadily feeds her, and the paper pads that Bruce seems to buy by case loads. 

Tim shakes his head and turns to go back up to clean the small mess.


	46. Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asked for Jason being given a biological son from an ex who is dead, and then freaking out over how he can't be a good dad.

"You can always put him up for adoption," Tim says calmly. As if it's not any fucking big deal at all, and Jason wants to lash out at him for it. "Steph did that with her daughter. She got to meet the parents, and vet them before giving her over. I keep an eye on them for her, and so does Babs. The kid's doing fine."

Jason looks down at the sleeping face of the baby in the laundry basket --because Jason might know fuck all about babies, but he knows better than to put one on his questionable couch-- and thinks about it. Imagines strangers raising _his_ kid. Thinks about the woman who gave birth to him and the woman who raised him. Thinks about the pain of losing one of them, the joy of finding the other, and the shit storm that came from it.

_No._ Jason wants to say the word, to deny the possibility so damn bad, but there's a firm voice inside him that says otherwise. A practical voice that tells him it'd be for the best, that he can't even take care of himself let alone a fucking baby. And what would he even do if he tried? He can't manage not to unfuck his own life for five minutes, how badly would he screw this little boy up in five years?

"I," Jason swallows. Hard, but it doesn't do a damn thing to get the blockage out of his throat. The little boy sleeps on oblivious to the fact his mom's dead and his dad got better but is still a dead beat.

"You don't have to decide now," Tim eases into Jason's space. Winding an arm around him and pulling his head down until he's got his nose buried against his neck. Tim's fingers running through his hair and massaging his scalp. His voice is perfectly sincere as he says, "It's not an easy decision, but I'll be here. No matter what you choose, alright? I'll be here for it, and for you."

Jason closes his eyes and breathes in. Listening to the sound of Tim's murmurs and the slight whistle of his son breathing. Time. Time sounds like a good thing right now. Jason lets his indecision go and just breathes.


	47. Curious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for Jay not being adopted by Bruce and getting a scholarship that puts him in the same school as Tim.

If Jason had gone to any other school --not been so "lucky" like his social case worker likes to enthuse about when they meet-- he never would have given the scrawny kid in the worn hoodie and scuffed sneakers a second glance. Just another punk kid out on the Gotham streets at night for reasons that could range from pure boredom to trouble at home. Any one of the reasons a dime a dozen.

But Jason _does_ go to Brentwood when it's in session, and all it takes is a flash of very familiar blue eyes for Jason to recognize Tim Drake dressed up like he belongs on the streets. Like he's comfortable on one of the worst streets in Gotham. Weaving through the women working the corner and stepping over the crack addicts that had spilled out of their den earlier in the night and passed out on the concrete.

It makes him stop and abandon all thoughts of crashing at the home he's staying in for the break and turn to follow someone that he would've sworn was too damn preppy to blend in so well. Drake was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and IQ that makes Jason want to chew on the guy's head some days, and the seemingly effortless ability to speak to even the most snobbish students without making a single enemy.

A rich boy and a schmoozer. With eyes that kinda make Jason want to slam his head into a wall when he doesn't want to slam Drake's there instead. That's all, Jason had never expected to find more than that to the younger guy.

It's curiosity, plain and simple, that makes Jason fall back and stalk behind Drake as he turns into an alley that'd make even Jason think twice going down it, but Drake does it with nonchalance and confidence. Which carries over --as Jason watches from around the corner-- to him jumping up onto a hazardous looking fire escape and climbing up to the roof of the building like a fucking monkey.

Jason's left with a choice then. Turning right back around and leaving the rich boy to whatever fate he's gotten himself into, or following those scuffed sneakers up and finding out what's going on for himself.

Jason's never considered himself a cat person before, but he figures he's got at least one life to spare as he slips into the alley and reaches up for the ladder.


	48. No

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was asked for my take on the Bat fam and this quote from the Hobbit: "We do not want any adventures here, thank you- not today! Not--" -Bilbo Baggins

"No," Tim moans into the mattress, because pillows are for people too stupid to recognize that while they're soft and fluffy they'll turn on you in a flat second if you try to use them as an anchor. Their inherent softness and fluffiness a thing that makes them light and easy to move. Thus their unsuitability to be used as an anchor.

"Yes," Jason grunts as he tries to pry Tim's fingers out from under the mattress, because Tim also recognizes that sheets are not something that will save him either. "I swear to fuck, if you make us late I'm blaming it on you, and then you can deal with Alfred's disappointed look."

"I do not want any adventures here, thank you. Not today!" Tim tries to wail without lifting his head up and giving Jason enough leverage to peel him away from safety. "I want sleep and home and elevenses. Jay, I want _elevenses_!"

"Oh, fuck this shit," Jason stops trying to grab him and stomps out of the room. Tim listens to him curse the whole way into the bathroom before cupboards start slamming. He allows himself to smile in the brief respite before Jason stomps his way back into the room.

Tim waits until he hears the safety pin pop out before rolling off the bed, away from Jason and the stream of non-hazardous fire retardant fluff that makes up their fire extinguisher. "Dammit, Tim!"

Tim rolls up onto his feet and scowls at the mess that is their bed as he brushes spray foam off of him. It leaves a white powder behind that he glares at for good measure. "Great, now I have to take a shower. I had this _timed_ , Jay. We would've made it in time if you just let me have those extra five minutes."

"Oh, fuck you," Jason growls, fire extinguisher still spitting out small foam plumes and teeth bared in a dangerous snarl that really is disproportionate for the occasion.

"Not if you don't clean this mess up while I shower and change," Tim breezes past Jason before he can retaliate. Calling back over his shoulder, "Better hurry or Alfred will be really upset with us."

Tim only lets himself grin when the bathroom door is safely closed between him and Jason's loud curses.


	49. Off Button

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was asked for these two post-coital.

Jason worries after a long moment that he's broken Tim.

No, he was _smug_ as fuck first , but as the minuted tick by and Tim makes no move whatsoever to roll out of the relaxed sprawl he's in worry starts to take over. The man isn't sleeping. His eyes are half opened and move to occasionally track something Jason eventually figures out is the dust floating through the beams of light that are stubbornly coming through the black out curtains. He's not hurt because Jason has no delusions that he'd still be in the bed if that were the case. 

Tim is just laying there. Completely relaxed and not moving to do the next thing that his overactive brain comes up with. Tim's need to always be moving, always be _doing_ something gone.

"Fuck, was that your off button?" Jason slides back into smug again when Tim's eyes slide to him and he slowly blinks. Jason laughs at the uncomprehending look he gets. "It is."

"Shut up, Jason," Tim mutters, obviously the sharpest insult he can come up with. He rolls away from him and buries his face in one of the pillows with a huff.

"Oh come on, don't be like that," Jason moves to press up behind Tim. Grinning when Tim keeps his head down but doesn't pull away from his arms. "It's not a bad thing."

Tim mumbles incoherently, and Jason chuckles as he feels him relax. Breathing still too fast to be him falling asleep, but Tim still doesn't move to jump out of bed. Jason closes his eyes and enjoys the moment.


	50. 1 Sentence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1 sentence prompts.

mythoughtfulwindow123 said: Hello, I have a prompt if you'd like! Tim building Jason a car for his birthday?

~

"Alright, I get that you have to do this," Dick says as he slowly eases the screwdriver Tim’s holding like a knife out of his hand, "but you don’t have to literally build it from scrap metal."

~

sorceressassassin said: Prompt! Tim and Cass hair braiding?

~

"See," Cass says all smug and laughing at him with her eyes as Tim mournfully looks into the mirror, "not too short to braid."

~

ss-penguin said: Prompt request: Jason trying to serenade Tim

~

Tim’s laugh, his real one not that fake shit he pulls out for interviews, is loud and beautiful most of the time, “Shut the fuck up, like you can sing any better!”


	51. Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested JayTim and coffee.

"I miss Alfred’s coffee," Tim sighs dreamily, the way Jason’s only ever heard teenage girls sound over hot celebrities.

"It’s been an hour," Jason observes after checking his watch. "You cannot miss something that you can still taste on the back of your teeth."

Tim glares over at him, but Jason can see he’s moving his tongue around in his mouth. “I can’t taste it.”

"Well, I can, and that’s why you’re going to fail miserably," Jason grins as Tim scowls over at him. "Hey, you’re the one who said you didn’t need coffee to live. I’m not forcing you to do anything here. If you’re willing to admit defeat you can go right ahead and get yourself a nice cup of Alfred’s brew anytime you want."

Tim’s painted himself into a corner on this one, and the man knows it. His jaw works a bit before setting into a stubborn line, and Jason mentally resets his timer. He’ll give his boyfriend another hour, maybe two at the most, before he’s breaking down and clawing at the door for his caffeine fix.


	52. Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More with coffee.

"The fuck is this?" Jason pulls out a wrapped- Hell, it’s a spoon. There’s a plastic wrapped spoon in Tim’s cabinet, and it’s got shit all over it. His first instinct is to throw it out, but the longer he looks at it the more he thinks it’s _supposed_ to be that way.

"Uh," Tim looks up and squints at it with first one eye, then the other, then _both_. “I think Tam got that for me for Christmas.”

"Last year?" Jason asks, thinks about it for a moment then narrows his eyes back on the spoon. "Or the year before that?"

"Last year," Tim says. Too fast and too defensive to be the truth.

"What’s it supposed to be anyway?" Jason lets the lie go. He can’t be bothered confronting him on every single one, and trying just means he’s usually too exhausted when he really needs to smack Tim over the head about a big one.

"Flavored coffee," Tim says as he holds his freshly filled mug up. "You stir it in and it adds flavor as it melts. I tired one once, but it was too messy. Guess I forgot I had more."

"No shit," Jason tosses the spoon into the trash and turns back to the cabinet that clearly doesn’t have the box of crackers he bought last week in it, but does seem to have more things that need to be thrown out lurking in its depths. "Tim, I think it’s time you did a little cleaning in here."

Tim grimaces but doesn’t actually complain for once.


	53. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was asked for them running away --Tim due to his spleen health issues and Jay's anger issues-- and Alfred seeing them happy, healthy, and together in another city like the dream in the Dark Knight trilogy.

Tim's smile is wide and real. His laugh bright and ringing, and his skin a healthy tan that he hasn't been since he was boy. The nights running Gotham's roofs having taken their toll long before the loss of his spleen made his weariness a more weighted and obvious thing.

Jason laughs right along with him. There's a loud ring to it that Alfred hasn't heard since the boy's first death, and it eases a tight worry in him to see the way his eyes shine with the sound. He feels it and isn't just putting on a show. There's no anger lining his face only happiness.

The boys are happy and healthy. Sitting across from each other at an outdoor table, the remains of a hearty looking meal strewn about between them as Jason pick's Tim's hand up and runs a finger over his palm. An unconscious gesture that speaks volumes about how far the two have come since running away from Gotham in the middle of the night with no word left outside of a plea to be let go.

Alfred finds himself smiling as he sees the good leaving that place has done them. His smile grows wider when they both turn to look at him. Their smiles are genuine and untroubled as they look at him through the window. Alfred cannot feel sorrow at all even when he turns to avoid a rushing traveler, and turns back to find the boys gone.


	54. Full Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for Jason obnoxiously narrating Tim taking his clothes off while Tim can hear.

"And here we see zee wild und unpredictable Timmy preforming a rare feat. Undressing for sleep!"

Jason's voice goes up with a startled gasp of awe or shock, and Tim throws his shirt at the man leaning against the door to his room. Jason bats it out of the air and gives him a grin filled with so much snark and teeth Tim almost wants to film it for posterity. "I sleep all the time."

"True, but usually not in any way that can be called normal," Jason says in his normal voice before picking up that obnoxious fake accent that doesn't belong to any one nation. "Even ruffled by a greater predator zee Timmy is unphased as it peels off see outer layer of skin. Like a mask this skin is worn to confuse family und friends, and divert the lecherous claws of see paparazzi."

He's going to continue this and nothing Tim does is going to stop it. In fact, trying will only encourage the man to go further. Further like crouching over his bed as he sleeps and continuing his narration. A creepy thought any other day, but Tim's too tired to care about it right now. He flicks his belt open and lets his trouser drop to the ground. Heedless of the second fake gasp that draws from Jason as he searches for a pair of sweats.

"Unbelievable! Zee Timmy must be exhausted to allows such creases and insults to happen to his-" Jason breaks off with a thoughtful hum and is silent for a blessed five seconds. "400 dollar pants!"

"That's what dry cleaning is for," Tim remarks and turns so his back is to Jason when he shucks off his boxers. Plain white for once, and he's thankful for that now.

"And now we see zee most rare sight of all!" Jason exclaims and Tim doesn't need to see him to hear the leer. "Zee full moon of zee Timmy!" Jason laughs, loud and obnoxious as he cracks himself up. When he speaks again as Tim drags the covers down it's with his normal voice. "Seriously, Timmy, when's the last time that ass saw any sun?"

"Never," Tim says as he crawls in and sighs. Eyes closing in bliss and already slipping into sleep even as he talks. "I don't run around nude like some people I can name."

Jason scoffs from close by and there's a click as he gets the lamp Tim forgot about. "It's good for you. Just ask Dick."

No. Tim's not sure if he says that last word out loud or not though as sleep does what it's been threatening to do for the last 48 hours and steals him away from Jason who's still talking.


	55. Liar Liar

"Wait," Jason catches the door as it tries to slam shut on his face. He nearly misses the window to grab it and a few fingers along with it, but he manages to stop it. He follows Tim in and tries not to smirk. "What are you mad at me for?"

Tim's whole body screams. Indignation, anger, pissiness. The exact emotion changes the longer Jason chases after the man. Growing increasingly darker and Jason's sure that his pinched face is going to stick like that if he doesn't smile soon.

"I'm not mad at you," Tim bites out the lie as he works at pulling off his tie and stuffy business shirt. He hands move very precisely. No room for error like only when he's so utterly focused on something that nothing else matters. "Why would I be mad at you? Have you done anything worthy of me being mad over?"

"Apparently," Jason kicks off his boots and follows behind Tim. Ignoring the evil eyes Tim's giving him. "You've been bitching at me since lunch."

"I'm not bitching. I don't bitch," Tim bitches as he turns and heads to the kitchen just like Jason knew he would. "I don't know why you think I woul- Jason."

"Yeah?" Jason asks and he can't keep the smirk off his face anymore.

"You are a dick," Tim says, and his voice is still pissy but the anger just melts out of his body. 

Jason laughs and steps up behind Tim. Wrapping his arms around him so he can look over his shoulder at the table. Already set, the food covered and waiting in the stove, and a single candle lit on the table. There's rose petals everywhere, and Jason's going to bitch at Dick for that finishing touch. Later though. Right now he wants to enjoy the moment with Tim. "You really thought I'd forget Valentine's Day?"

"No," Tim lies sulkily but doesn't actually try to get out of Jason's arms. "I've just been trying to figure out how much of a bastard you were going to be about it. I've been anticipating something all day."

"Liar," Jason presses a kiss to his neck and lets him go to go to the stove. "Come on, babe. Let's eat."


	56. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request for a meme prompt involving a lapdance.

"For the record," Tim grits out. All rage and leashed vengeance which is amazing given he's smiling like an angel. A fallen angel, but still an angel. "I will make you regret every single second of this."

Jason grins as he saunters up to the seated man. Letting himself strut more than he would have if it were anyone else in the room. He doesn't have to work very hard at the appreciative leer he gives Tim. He's dressed every inch like the spoiled rich brat he's playing for whatever his angle on this deal is, and while Jason hates the persona he has to admit Tim wears it well. 

"You're making it sound like _I'm_ the one at fault here, when you're the," Jason makes a show out of reading the little paper request slip he was given for this lap dance, "Mr. _Seever_ who wanted a stacked boy in leather for a few minutes. Don't blame me for the fact that you and B don't like sharing busts with me."

He crumbles the paper up and tosses it at a hidden trashcan. Missing by the careful five inches he's been maintaining the last four times he was tagged to give a private show. The music starts on cue, and Jason is grateful as ever the surveillance doesn't include audio here as he stalks up to Tim.

"Keep your hands to yourself," Jason warns almost by rote now as he physically reaches down to place Tim's hands on the padded armrests of the chair. Pressing with all of his weight in another warning as he climbs into Tim's lap with a shimmy that rattles Tim's masks.  
All of them. 

He moves with the beat of the music in a showy ripple of muscles that doesn't press him up against Tim all that much but looks absolutely obscene. Which is really like a heat seeking missile to all of stalker boy's kinks and works doubly well for Jason's purposes as Tim's anger falters. 

"Now then," Jason smiles. Dark and dangerous, and Tim shudders more than a little under him. "You've got three minutes to tell me why you all didn't want me coming in on a sex slavery ring in _my territory_ before I decide to damn finding out any more information and just go straight for the jugular."


	57. Mafia Princess 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt meme for bending over seductively.

"Slower," Timmy demands and Jason freezes. More at tone of her voice than the actual command. His right hand braced on the desk and already half bent down to pick up the paper she'd asked him to get for her.

Timmy's smirking when he looks over his shoulder at her. Her chair leaning back precariously as she taps one blood red painted nail against her bottom lip. Her gaze is very appreciative and fixed nowhere near his face.

"You sure you want me to get this for you, Princess?" Jason asks with a grin as he stretches the muscles in his back without moving. A move that he knows does good things to his ass. Timmy agrees going by the way her eyes get sharper. "Get me a pillow and I can hang out here like this for a bit for you."

Her tongue is pink and teasing. "Hm," she hums appreciatively and rolls up from the chair. Her hips sway in exaggeration as she walks up to lean next to him. One hand dropping down on his ass with an air of propriety. Her sharp nails bite even through the denim and Jason swallows hard. "No, I think I'd much rather have you pose on the bed right now."

"Whatever you want, Princess," Jason stands up slowly before turning to pick his Timmy up with a grin. She squeaks just a bit at the sudden movement but she doesn't bitch about it too much though he knows damn well he's going to pay for the move with the flesh on his back.

So worth it.


	58. Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Teach me to play.

"No," Jason says after a long moment of studying the rather perfect face Tim’s making. Innocent, but not overly so. Just enough interest to make anyone who doesn’t know better think he actually means what that sentence implies. "I’m not falling for that line. What kind of stupid do you think I am anyway?"

"I’m not feeding you a line," Tim spins on the couch and kicks him lightly in the ribs. It’s a perfect act he’s got going. He’s just the right amount of indignant and exasperated to almost be believed by those who do know him. "I’ve never played a game of poker before. How hard is it for you to believe that?"

"Because when Noah Webster first started printing out dictionaries he left a blank spot where the phrase poker face could go with a picture of your face next to it," Jason reaches out to grab Tim by his bony ankles. Gripping them both hard enough to keep him from kicking again. "Say what you want, no way in hell am I going to let you fleece me using the oldest line in the book."

"You could have just said no," Tim rolls his eyes and readjusts his laptop. He doesn’t admit his scheming and also doesn’t try to free his legs. Shaking the whole thing off with a toss of his head. "You’re paranoid by the way."

"Like hell I am," Jason takes the high road and lets the matter drop though in favor of finding out if Tim’s feet are ticklish at all.

They are, and Jason’s got a split lip the next day that makes laughing at Dick a little painful when he starts moaning about how he got taken by Tim in a card game.


	59. Surrogate

"They've found a surrogate," Tim says after reading the email for the third time. Tam's explanation is short but to the point as she describes the candidate that managed to pass all the lawyers strict standards and who is willing to put up with all the legal stuff that comes from the process.

Jason leans over the couch behind him and wraps one arm around his chest. He can feel the warm puffs of air as Jason's breathes stir the strands of hair against his ear. His hand is solid and still in a way that shouldn't be as comforting as it is. A fact that Jason picks up on immediately. "We don't have to do this."

It had taken them a year to come to this decision, a year of serious talks and arguments. Plans made and broken and a deep sharing of what they wanted the future --their future-- to be that they hadn't done even when they got married. They're going to do this no matter what Jason says, because Tim doesn't think he can go through that again. 

"No, we don't," Tim agrees even as he opens up a reply, because Jason is right. They don't have to do this. They just want to do it. "It just-" Tim's fingers pause in typing out a reply and he shifts so he can turn to look at Jason. "I was going to say sudden but it's not."

Jason snorts and jumps over the couch to take away his laptop. Putting it safely out of reach on the coffee table before pushing Tim into the cushions. "You're going to make such a hot mom for the kid."

"Shut up," Tim snaps back automatically, and the nerves he'd been feeling give way as he pulls Jason down for a kiss. Muttering, just before their lips meet, "We both know you're going to be the stay at home mom."


	60. Fight Me!

"Fight me, you attractive stranger!" Tim only lisps slightly as he wavers convincingly on his feet in front of Jason. Both of his fists up in front of his face like a kid who has no idea what a punch even looks like. His drunken declaration succeeding in getting half the room's attention.

Jason narrows his eyes and fights hard not to laugh right in Tim's face. For all that he knows Tim agrees with him on how ridiculous this plan is, Jason knows Tim will give him hell later if he deviates from it. So instead of laughing, Jason tilts down the sunglasses he's wearing --"So I can, so I can forget my name while you collect your claim!" Dick's voice continues to sing annoyingly over the comm line-- to give Tim's slightly drunken stance a very slow and filthy once over. With extra emphasis on the sleaziness he's been cultivating all night. "Only since you asked me so nicely, you pretty thing."

Jason cringes mentally in disgust and it's Tim's turn to bite back laughter. Jason just hopes like hell that this distraction is going to be worth it.


	61. Problems

"I love your cat but it doesn't love me," Tim says mournfully as Jason tosses him a mostly empty bottle of antiseptic. He's still looking wistfully across the room at the puffed up ball of growling orange fur and baleful eyes.

"I don't have a cat," Jason repeats and starts to run a check of the safehouse again. Looking for what hole or crack the demented cat used to come inside this time. No matter how often he seals them up though the damn thing always finds its way back in somehow and it's starting to drive Jason nuts. 

"Jason, no one ever owns a cat," Tim sighs and says patiently as he wipes at the bleeding scratches on his hand. Looking amused when Jason almost trips over the cat when it suddenly decides it would rather wind itself around his feet and rub up against him. "Cat's own you."

"Does that explain why you like them so much?" Jason asks and ducks when the bottle comes back right at his face.


	62. Pick Up

"Jason, it's your turn to pick Damian up. I got him yesterday," Tim says as he shoves the other man off the couch and then promptly steals the spot for himself. It's still warm and only smells a little like smoke and blood.

Jason's glare is worse than usual with his eyes being bloodshot, and the hint of bags under his eyes don't help either but Tim's able to ignore it with long practice. "Like hell it is. I'm dead, I don't get babysitting rotation duties."

Jason launches himself off the floor and back onto the couch. Hands looking to get under the blankets that Tim has stubbornly tucked under himself. Jason let his guard down which is why he fell so easily but Tim will not be making that same mistake. "You are when we're under siege. Just put some glasses on and pretend to be a bodyguard. You di- Jason!"

Tim grunts as the full weight of Jason's body simply collapses on top of him. Like right on top of him, and his bruised ribs complain about the extra strain. In the split second distraction of that pain, arms wind under him and he's being flipped around so that Jason is now firmly back on the cushions.

"It's Dick's turn," Jason grunts as Tim nails him once in the stomach, but doesn't actually remove his arms. Holding Tim until he settles and relaxes on top of him. "Let him deal with it."

Dick's got a concussion, but Tim doesn't point that out. The blankets are far too warm and now he has Jason's warmth under him too. His eyes fall shut before he can even begin to think of how to word a response. It's not like Damian even needs babysitting all that much these days anyway.


	63. Let Sleeping Drakes Lay

"Fuck you and everything you stand for!" Tim growls out as he's yanked out of a sound sleep. The words slur even in his own ears but it's clear from the broad grin on Jason's face that he was able to understand it perfectly. "Shut up."

Jason brushes the demand aside and pins him to the bed easily. While Tim probably could have moved fast enough to get away from the pin, he's just woken up after a horrible night of patrol. The thought of moving anywhere fast pains him more than the horrible line he just knows is coming.

"Well seeing as I'm waking you up on your orders, I guess all that I stand for is you," Jason looks down at him in mock consideration. "Now does that mean I get to fuck you or do you get to fuck me?"

"Get me some coffee and I'll let you choose," Tim blows out a long breath in irritation he's not feeling as strongly anymore. Especially not when Jason shifts down just a little more. "Coffee, Jason, or I'm going back to sleep."

Jason laughs before getting up and leaving the room. Tim goes back to being irritated for the seconds it takes him to hear the familiar sound of coffee being brewed. It's not an extra three hours of sleep, but it's the next best thing really.


	64. Worry

"Is there a problem officer?" Jason asks with the kind of grin that makes most beat cops want to wipe it off. With their fists if he's not recognizable, and with heavy artillery if he's going around as Red Hood.

"I'm not a cop anymore," Dick complains even as he's totally aware that his stance right now is totally what he used in Bludhaven when he thought the kids he was coming up on could be intimidated into doing better without having to arrest them. He shifts his weight and pulls on his best worried look. "I'm just _concerned_ -"

Tim groans and lets his head fall back with a painful thud against the wall, but doesn't make a move to actually pull out of the very compromising position he's in with Jay. It's times like these that Dick regrets the fact that most of his inborn sense of shame has been burned out of him. If Dick had caught them like this even a year ago, Tim'd be fairly glowing with an embarrassed blush.

"Don't," Tim says warningly, but Jason arches an eyebrow in a silent question that Dick is more than willing to answer.

"Are you guys using protection?" Dick manages to say with a straight face, keeping the worry going for as long as he can. "It's just there's a lot of diseases out there, and lube and condoms aren't just good ideas. They're necessary for a healthy-"

Jason's laughing as he gets pushed into Dick, and they both teeter for a bit before regaining their balance. Tim looks at them the same way he looks at rejected contracts. With weary acceptance and utter loathing. "I hate you both."


	65. Hit

“Hey, what are you- Dangit, Tim!” Jason lunged forward and barely managed to catch Tim before he could topple over the edge of the building. He grunts as he pulls the other man back and is not the least bit surprised that one of his hands slide a little on something slick and wet. He can smell the blood even before he pulls that hand away to confirm what it is.

The damn suit is red, and that’s a bitch when Jason lays him out and starts to check him over for injuries. He knew, he damn well knew the bastard was lying when he said he was fine after they got out of the warehouse. Jason’d been busy but not to busy to notice when Red Robin went down hard.

“O we’re going to need medical here,” Jason snaps through the comms when he find the wound on the left side of his chest. Not the heart, thank fuck, but too close for comfort. “RR is down.”

“Can you move him?” Oracle comes back immediately. No hint of any tension in her mechanized voice.

“If I need to,” Jason responds. The bullet went through the weak join of armor plates in his side. There’s no exit wound that he can find so the bullet’s still in there. Jason growls in anger. Anger at the bastards who got off too light for this and anger that Tim’d kept his mouth shut about this until he lost enough blood to go down.

Down but not out completely.

Tim twitches and shakes his head sharply before looking up at Jason. “It didn’t feel that bad.”

Jason growls louder at him because he’s got no words that won’t end with him screaming, and Oracle’s giving him coordinates to get to. They need to be moving, not arguing over Tim’s lack of self-preservation. Tim’s not complete dead weight when Jason lifts him up and that eases a little of the fear Jason’s been ignoring in him. Just a bit.

They’re halfway there, stopped to let Tim breathe heavily, his weight heavy against Jason’s side before he finally says something. “You’re an idiot.”

The words are gritted out on a growl and Tim smiles a little before leaning harder against him. “Yeah, guess you’re starting to rub off on me.”


End file.
